i can take the cold from your bones
by mad not sad
Summary: "Scamander. I see Hogsmeade has finally found their village idiot." Victoire/Lysander
1. chapter one

**A/N**: This is basically the oneshot that got away. I don't even. It was supposed to be short! Anyway. Enjoy.

..

_i can take the cold from your bones_

chapter one

..

She is three years older than he is, which makes it all the more offensive when an eight-year-old Lysander steals Victoire's first kiss one hazy summer afternoon in the Burrow's backyard.

"Get away from me, you horrible little boy!" she shrieks, though _little_ is hardly the best word to describe him, considering he and his twin Lorcan are unnaturally tall for eight-year-olds, maybe even taller than Victoire is at eleven. After getting over the initial shock at how brazen, how utterly _impudent_, the grinning boy is, she reaches out with both hands and shoves him away from her, hard.

Lysander merely tosses his head, a tousle of dark brown hair falling back, and smirks at her. His mischievous face is tanned from weeks of playing outside under the scalding summer sun, and his silvery gray eyes twinkle. "Aw, come on, Weasley," he taunts. "You liked it."

Victoire gasps, her blue eyes widened in shock. "Why, you…" she hisses, so angry she can barely even see straight. "You…you…rude, nasty little _creature_. Never, in my _entire_ life, have I been so –"

"- attracted to someone?" the precocious Lysander supplies with a roguish smirk.

"_Agh_!" she screams in frustration, assembling her hands on her hips in a pose of wrath that would give her mother a run for her money. "Just who do you think you are, anyway?"

"I'm Lysander Scamander," he tells her earnestly, to which she rolls her eyes because _of course_ she already knows that. Does he think she's stupid? And that's not what she'd meant, anyway, though she supposes she can't expect a little child like him to understand the concept of rhetorical questions. "You can tell me apart from my brother 'cause he's got lighter hair. Plus he's the quiet one who's always reading. I'm the one with behavior problems, that's what our nanny said, anyway."

Annoyed by Lysander's incessant prattling, Victoire crosses her arms over her chest impatiently. She looks past him and sees all of her little cousins playing in her grandparents' yard, all of the adults too far away to put a stop to Lysander's antics.

"Enough!" Victoire finally shouts, effectively shutting up his rambling with her fiercest glare. "What in Merlin's name made you think you could just…just…_kiss_ me like that?"

He shrugs. "You're awfully pretty," he tells her earnestly, and despite herself, Victoire finds herself blushing. "I just couldn't help myself."

It takes her a moment to recover from his unabashed explanation, she's not sure why, and when she does, she looks at him like he's nothing more than a nasty little beetle she'd step on in a heartbeat. "Well, Sca_mander_, you need to get some self-control." She sniffs superciliously. "And for your _information_," she scoffs, "that was a horrible kiss. In fact, you're the last boy on earth I'd ever want to kiss me. You're nothing but a _child_." She smiles meanly at him. "Maybe you'll have better luck with girls your own age. Though I highly doubt it." With that, she turns on her heels, her long, blonde hair flying over her shoulder and hitting him in the face, and flounces away.

"You know you love me, Weasley!" she hears Lysander call from behind her.

Victoire narrows her eyes in anger, but refuses to indulge him by replying.

Her six-year-old cousin James has apparently heard Lysander's declaration and is laughing hysterically at her from the grass nearby. She sticks her tongue out at him and storms away.

..

Victoire starts Hogwarts that September, which is a little scary but would have been much worse if Teddy weren't there to board the Hogwarts Express with her. And thank _Merlin_, she's sorted into Gryffindor, just like Teddy was and her dad was and all her aunts and uncles were years ago.

Still, though, Teddy's a third year with his own gang of friends, and it's hardly cool for him to hang around with a little _first year girl._ The first night that Victoire sleeps in her new four-poster bed at Hogwarts, she cries herself to sleep because of how much she misses her parents and Dominique and little Louis. But the next morning, she makes sure all signs of weakness are gone from her face and her attitude, because she's going to _rule_ this school, just you wait and see. Victoire's far too used to being in charge of all of her cousins and bossing everyone around not to be in charge wherever she goes. Being friendly doesn't exactly come naturally to her, but she carries herself with such poise and confidence that she can't help but become popular in her year. The girls are all a little jealous of her, half the boys have a crush on her, and all of them are slightly afraid of the self-assured blonde with the sharp tongue.

She likes all of her classes pretty well, although she doesn't appreciate it when she's paired with Angus Marthopper in Potions and he accidentally explodes their cauldron all over her, ruining her robes and making her hair full of the _foulest_ stuff. She appreciates it even less when Greta Hopkirk, in a Charms lesson gone horribly wrong, turns her skin a hideous hue of bright green that won't go away for a day. In both instances, Victoire shouts at Angus and Greta so much in the common room later that everyone becomes too afraid to partner with her in classes, resulting in Victoire usually being stuck paired with a Slytherin for lessons.

After the Christmas holidays, one of the first year Gryffindors, Flossy Derwent, brings back the most wonderful magical hair ribbons, but only enough for herself, Victoire, and another girl in their dormitory, Olivia Kent. That's the start of their exclusive clique, and it quickly escalates until the three girls are sitting apart from the other girls in their year at mealtimes and in the common room, gossiping in hushed whispers about everyone who isn't one of them, and dressing the same whenever they can. Victoire loves the feeling of belonging so fully to a group, a feeling of comfort that despite her settling into Hogwarts, she hasn't felt until now. But all the other first year girls don't see it that way, and the whole affair results in Victoire, Flossy, and Olivia being taken aside by two of their prefects and given a stern lecture about exclusion and bullying. They apologize, and as per the prefects' instructions, try to include others in more of their activities, but the experience has left the three girls irrevocably bonded.

"Best friends, forever and always?" Flossy, twirling her black curls around her fingers, asks the other two in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express in June, and Victoire and Olivia nod happily.

"Forever and always," Victoire grins.

..

It's Grandma and Grandpa Weasley's annual summer party again, and everyone's back at the Burrow. Victoire works assiduously on her tan – after all, Flossy's on holiday in Spain for the summer and Victoire doesn't want to go back to school looking weirdly pale next to her.

Victoire is lying out on the green grass, head tilted back, letting the sun reach as much of her body as possible. Molly, who at ten years old is desperate to emulate Victoire in everything, lies next to her.

Their peace is shattered when a Quaffle from the complicated game of broomless Quidditch Victoire's younger cousins are playing lands near the girls. She cracks one eye open and of course, Lysander Scamander is jogging over to get the ball. _He probably threw it over here on purpose_, Victoire thinks crossly. She can think of about a million nasty things she'd like to say to the boy, but she holds her tongue. After all, she's _twelve _now.

"Nice legs, ladies!" Lysander calls over his shoulder as he jogs away, Quaffle in hand.

Molly blushes furiously, red spreading over her freckled cheeks, but Victoire merely scoffs. "Nice baby teeth, Scamander!" she calls back to him.

..

Her first _real _kiss finally happens in October of her second year. Her Astronomy class has a midnight session in the Astronomy Tower, and Victoire's housemate Philip Ledeboer asks her to hang back with him after the rest of their classmates pack up their telescopes and start to descend the stairs.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Philip?" Victoire asks curiously.

After a great deal of stammering and blushing, Philip blurts, "Uh…I really like your hair!"

Victoire raises her eyebrows at this odd outburst. Before she can say anything, Philip goes on. "Would it be okay if I give you a kiss on the mouth?"

At this, she is _really_ surprised, but of course she can't help but be flattered, too. Philip is one of the handsomest boys in her year, and Victoire's always liked his laugh. So she smiles prettily back at him and leans her face toward his. He's a little shaky and nervous, but at least it's a real, legitimate sort of kiss, one with a boy who's actually her own age, and it's under the stars at night, not in her grandparents' backyard.

When Victoire finally gets back to her dormitory, she giggles with Flossy and Olivia about how handsome Philip Ledeboer is, how romantic it is to kiss under the stars on the Astronomy Tower. She lies and tells them that the kiss was absolutely fantastic, the stuff dreams are made of. But when she goes to sleep that night, she can't help but compare her kiss with Philip to the first one, all that time ago with little Lysander Scamander. After remembering Lysander's ridiculous comments afterward, Victoire rolls her eyes at herself and promptly falls asleep.

..

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite Weasley."

Victoire feels her hands ball into fists as she steps out of the fireplace at her Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry's house. It's the winter holidays during her second year. Victoire had expected to spend a nice, predictable afternoon with a few family members – Aunt Ginny would yell at James for something or other he'd done, Lily would be a pest, Rose would beg Victoire to teach her some of the things she was learning at school. What Victoire did _not_ expect one bit was to be greeted by Lysander Scamander, lounging against the table in her aunt's kitchen like he owned the place, that insufferable smirk pasted onto his face.

"What are _you_ doing here, Scamander?" she sneers, sticking her nose up in the air.

"My family was invited over," he explains, "and really, Weasley, is that any way to treat a guest? I'd have thought you'd be more mature by now."

"What…but…" Victoire splutters. "Don't _you_ talk to _me_ about maturity! You're three years younger than I am!"

Lysander actually _laughs_ at her. "Dad says Lorcan and I are precocious," he tells her arrogantly.

"That's just a nice way of saying aggravating," Victoire shoots back, before she escapes the kitchen and proceeds to studiously ignore Lysander for the rest of the day.

..

Third year starts off excellently for Victoire. Molly is sorted into Gryffindor, and for the first few weeks is practically Victoire's shadow, following her older cousin around everywhere. After Victoire has a talk with her, though, Molly begins to make friends in her own year and stops trailing Victoire like a little lost puppy. Victoire starts studying Arithmancy, in which she quickly shoots to the top of her class. She writes home proudly to tell this to her dad, who sends her a fascinating book about treasure and ancient tombs by owl, pleased that his oldest daughter is excelling at his best subject.

Victoire is already eagerly anticipating her first Hogsmeade weekend, and this is only compounded when a Ravenclaw named Jake Carmichael asks her to go with him. They have a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Victoire has to fight to keep a straight face, since she can see Flossy and Olivia, seated at a table behind Jake's back, giggling at them the whole time, but other than that, the date goes smoothly. At the end, Jake asks her to be his girlfriend, and she accepts happily.

..

She dates Jake until March, when she breaks things off with him because all he seems to care about is whether he can put his hand up her blouse, not what she's saying or thinking.

At a party that weekend in the Gryffindor common room, Victoire just wants to forget about Jake and her Charms essay due on Monday and that horrible Slytherin girl, Pippa Urquhart, who called her a bitch in the Great Hall on Thursday (Victoire, of course, subsequently called Pippa far worse things).

"Firewhiskey, girls?" a fifth year boy asks Victoire and her friends, who are seated on a couch near the wall, too intimidated to go party with the seventh years near the fireplace.

The third years giggle and look at each other, silently daring the others to take some. "All right," Olivia is the first to reply, her brown eyes daring, holding her hands out bravely for some.

The fifth year waggles his eyebrows and passes out three Firewhiskeys to the girls. "Enjoy!" he tells them with a lewd grin.

Victoire has a few sips and slowly gets used to the burning feeling in her throat and her stomach. "This is actually kind of good," she laughs to Flossy and Olivia.

"It tickles!" giggles Flossy. Olivia, for her part, has been drinking steadily and is already almost done with her cup.

Victoire raises her drink to her lips once more, but before she can drink again, she feels the cup snatched out of her hands.

"Hey!" she exclaims, looking around to see what had just happened. She finally looks up and sees an irate Teddy Lupin, Victoire's Firewhiskey in his hand.

"You're too young for this stuff," Teddy tells her, glaring.

Victoire springs up, hands on her hips. "I am not! Give it back."

"Not a chance," Teddy replies, holding the cup up in the air, far out of her grasp. "You're just a kid. It's too strong for you."

Victoire glares fiercely at him. So Teddy's too cool to hang around with her ever since she started Hogwarts, and now, when all she wants is a bit of fun, he has to swoop in and pretend to care? "I'm fourteen," she tells him calmly and pointedly. "I hardly need a babysitter."

Leaving Teddy standing there, looking rather foolish with one hand raised in the air holding a cup of Firewhiskey, Victoire breezes past him, going over to talk to some fourth years she recognizes on the other side of the room.

..

One night in June, Victoire is out after curfew, coming back late from the Ravenclaw common room where she'd been studying with some of her Arithmancy classmates for their final exam later that week. She walks briskly through the corridors, eager to get back to her dormitory and get a good night's sleep before another day of revision tomorrow.

Suddenly, she hears a low voice from behind her. "You're breaking curfew, you know."

Victoire jumps into the air from surprise. She whirls around and sees the sixth year Hufflepuff prefect, Marlon Quaid, standing behind her. She gasps to catch her breath.

"Oh! Right, I know, I'm sorry," she rushes to explain. "It won't happen again. I was just coming back from a study group and –"

Marlon cuts her off with a chuckle. "Relax. I'm not going to dock points. What's your name?"

Victoire frowns, thinking he's going to give her detention or report her to Professor Longbottom, her Head of House. "Victoire Weasley, but I said I was sorry and that it wouldn't happen again –"

"Don't worry," laughs Marlon. "Victoire, I'm not going to get you into trouble. In fact, my patrol partner skipped out on me tonight, and I'm terribly bored. Maybe you'd like to keep me company?"

Uncertain, Victoire shrugs hesitantly. "Well…I suppose," she replies, because she doesn't know what she's meant to say or if this is a normal thing or what. She rarely breaks curfew, after all.

"Thanks a lot," responds Marlon, grinning down at her. He steps closer to her, and Victoire takes a step back. "What year are you, Victoire, fourth?"

She shakes her head. "No, third," she replies breathlessly, taking another step back as he advances closer, this time hitting the cold stone wall with her back.

"Third!" he echoes in surprise, shaking his head. "Now, now, Miss Weasley, didn't anyone ever tell you it's not safe to be walking the Hogwarts corridors alone at night?" She nods wordlessly. He continues, "There might not always be someone like me here to protect you."

"Thanks," Victoire tells him shakily.

Marlon smirks. "Don't mention it." He takes one more step closer to Victoire, bringing him so close they're almost touching. Victoire shrinks back against the wall. "You know, I can hardly believe I haven't seen you around before," he tells her in a low voice. "Who knew the third years looked like _this _these days?"

"Um," Victoire whispers, "I think I should be getting back to Gryffindor now…" she trails off as Marlon reaches up a hand to run through her hair.

"Shh," he tells her. "I can show you the best way there is to let off some steam during exams."

"No, that's all right, I really think I should –" he cuts her off by meeting her mouth with his. He's forceful and insistent, much more so than Lysander or Philip or Jake had ever been, and his arms are effectively trapping her between him and the wall, one on each side of her body. Victoire squirms underneath him, trying to push him off her, but he only laughs and seems to enjoy it more when she tries to contort her body to get free.

"Well aren't you a feisty one," he growls in her ear before sliding one hand up her skirt.

"Stop that!" Victoire cries, and he looks at her sharply.

"Now, now, we mustn't be too loud. It _is_ after curfew, after all," Marlon tells her.

Victoire shuts her eyes and, panicking, thinks of what she can do to get away. He's got her so that she can't get to her wand, but then she remembers the advice her Aunt Ginny gave about boys. She brings her knee up and swiftly jabs him in the groin.

"Fuck!" he shouts, backing away from her quickly. "Merlin, Victoire, that was uncalled for!"

"Was it?" she responds to him darkly, anger flashing from her blue eyes. She draws out her wand and hits Marlon with a powerful Stinging Hex. "Stay away from me, or there's more where that came from," she commands, before backing away slowly, her wand still pointed on the prefect.

After that, Victoire swears off boys. First Jake, now Marlon…it seems that wizards only want one thing from her.

..

At the annual summer party at the Burrow, Victoire spends most of her time talking to the adults. She's about to start fourth year, after all, and she can't spend her whole life hanging around with her little cousins. She watches the babies, Lily and Louis, for a bit (though at six years old, she supposes she'll have to stop thinking of them as the babies eventually), to make sure they don't get into trouble, but she's spent most of her summer babysitting Dominique and Louis and she's not sure how much more she can take of her unofficial nanny position.

"Honestly, Aunt Angelina, sometimes I think my parents only think of me as their live-in babysitter," Victoire complains to her aunt.

Aunt Angelina laughs. "Oh dear, I was going to see if you wanted to come over and watch Fred and Roxy sometime next week, but now I'm not so sure."

"Oh, no!" exclaims Victoire. "I didn't mean it like that. Really, I'd be happy to babysit for you – Fred's hilarious and Roxy's so sweet!" She finally manages to convince her aunt that she'd be happy to babysit, feeling bad for making her think otherwise, even though she can think of a few hundred things she'd rather do than play with her little cousins even _more _this summer. "And besides," she whispers to Aunt Angelina, "_nothing_ can be worse than babysitting for the Potters."

Angelina and Victoire laugh, because it's true – the Potter household is something like a warzone, what with James' pranks and Lily's tantrums and Albus' constant arguments with his older brother.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Victoire hears shouts from the other side of the yard. She glances over, and sure enough, James and Albus are screaming at each other, their various cousins all appearing to have taken one side or the other.

Victoire rolls her blue eyes. "I'd better go see what's going on," she tells her aunt, getting up from her seat and trudging over to go play peacemaker.

But before she makes it over to the boys, Victoire sees Lysander Scamander swoop in out of nowhere and whisper something in James' ear. James forgets all about his argument with his little brother and turns to look at Lysander, eyes wide with glee. "Really?"

Lysander nods smugly. "Would I lie to you, Potter?" he questions the younger boy, gray eyes twinkling.

James lets out a whoop of delight. "Come on, Fred," he exclaims, grabbing his cousin and best friend, "Lysander's just snuck some Belching Powder into the lemonade! We've gotta see this!"

James, Fred, and Dominique lead the mass exodus of little Weasleys over to the lemonade bowl, each child eager to see their parents belching uncontrollably.

Soon, there are only a few left who didn't run over to see the effects of Lysander's prank – Molly, who wants to seem mature in Victoire's eyes; Lorcan and Rose, who are busy poring over a book that Lorcan brought along; and Lysander himself, surprisingly enough.

Victoire's hands fly to her hips of their own accord as she glares at Lysander. She's extremely gratified to see that her recent growth spurt has left her an inch or two taller than her exasperating antagonist, although he's still quite tall for an eleven-year-old. "Did you really put Belching Powder in the lemonade?" she demands of him.

Lysander just shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. If you want to know so badly, Weasley, why don't you go see for yourself."

His words almost convince Victoire to go over and do just as he says, but just in time, she remembers herself and stays where she is. She knows Lysander fancies himself quite the little prankster, so she would hardly put it past him, but the fact that he hasn't even gone over to see the Powder's effects make her think that he'd lied to James, perhaps to break up the fight between the Potter brothers. Victoire stares him down coolly, trying to figure out what's going through the mystifying boy's head. "I'd rather not," she responds icily.

Lysander winks at her, which makes her certain that he'd been lying about the Belching Powder. Molly, bless her heart, looks utterly confused by their exchange.

"You know," Lysander begins casually, running a hand through his dark hair, "I'll be at Hogwarts with you this year." He grins up at Victoire, looking entirely too pleased. "_Finally_, am I right?"

She shudders and rolls her eyes wearily. "Merlin help us all," she sighs.

He merely smirks and raises his eyebrows at her. "Save me a seat at the Welcoming Feast," he tells her cockily as he sidles past her, strutting toward the house with far too much confidence for a boy his age.

Victoire grits her teeth. For the first time in her life, she's dreading going back to school.

..

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Sorry for all the time devoted to the younger years, though I promise the characters age quickly in the chapters to come. I would love it if you left a review letting me know what you think!


	2. chapter two

_i can take the cold from your bones_

chapter two

..

"Scamander, Lorcan!"

From her seat at the Gryffindor table, Victoire smiles reassuringly at Lorcan as he nervously takes his seat and has the Sorting Hat placed on his head.

"His parents are family friends," Victoire whispers to Flossy and Olivia.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat declares, and Victoire claps loudly for Lorcan as he happily scampers off to the Ravenclaw table.

Secretly, she's extremely relieved. Family members tend to go into the same house, and Lorcan and Lysander are_ twins_ – she's sure Lysander will join his brother in Ravenclaw.

"Scamander, Lysander!" Victoire watches stonily as Lysander saunters up to the chair.

The hat is placed on his head, and after a few seconds, "Gryffindor!"

Victoire starts clapping until she realizes that she hadn't, in fact, heard _Ravenclaw_. _Wait_, she thinks to herself, her hands freezing mid-clap. _Wait. No! _

Before she knows it, she feels the bench she's seated on shake. She looks next to her only to be horrified by the sight of Lysander clambering onto the bench right beside her!

"Scamander!" she hisses. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Hiya, Weasley," he greets, his hair sticking up all over his head in a mess courtesy of the Sorting Hat, making him look like a ragamuffin. "Thanks for saving me a seat."

"You…you…" she sputters, "You can't sit here! You're supposed to sit with all the other first years!"

Lysander just shrugs. "Met them already on the train," he explains.

Just then, a prefect hisses at them to be quiet, so Victoire waits until the Sorting is over and the food has appeared to scold Lysander once more. "I'm serious, Scamander, you can't sit with us. I…I forbid you!"

But Lysander ignores her, smiling across the table at Flossy and Olivia, who can't stop laughing at Victoire's predicament. He leans over and reaches his hand out to shake theirs. "I'm Lysander Scamander," he tells them suavely, and Victoire swears she sees Flossy blush faintly. "And who are you lovely ladies?"

"Flossy Derwent," Flossy giggles. "Aren't you just the cutest thing?"

"Nice to meet you, Lysander, I'm Olivia Kent," the brunette replies, snickering at Victoire's sour expression.

"Yeah, and they're _my_ friends," Victoire buts in. "Maybe you should think about finding some of your own, though of course that'll be difficult for you considering your attitude."

"Don't mind her," Lysander tells Flossy and Olivia. "Sometimes she can get like this. It's clearly a defense mechanism to hide her attraction toward me."

At this, Olivia bursts into uncontrollable laughter and Flossy raises her eyebrows, impressed at Lysander's vocabulary. "Vic," Flossy says, "how come you never told us about your little boyfriend here?"

Victoire rolls her eyes. "Shut up," she scowls.

Lysander pats her hand soothingly – well, at least he does until Victoire attempts to stab his fingers with a fork. "It's okay, Weasley, someday you'll be ready to accept that you're in love with me."

Victoire's cheeks flush with anger and she glares daggers at Lysander. "I am _not_ in…" she begins to shout until she realizes how ridiculous it is for her to actually be engaging in this exchange with him. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she deliberately turns in her seat so that her back is to Lysander. "Run along now, little boy," she sniffs, ignoring him for the rest of the night.

..

One blustery autumn day, Victoire is late for Herbology. All the other girls have gone ahead, but she'd forgotten her textbook and had to run back to the dormitory to retrieve it. She walks briskly across the school grounds, heading for the greenhouse. She had instructed Flossy to tell Professor Longbottom she'd be a few minutes late, but then again Flossy is never the most dependable.

Suddenly, Victoire hears a mischievous strain of laughter, one that she's unfortunately come to recognize over the past month or so by hearing it all around Hogwarts. She looks over to the noise and cries out in shock.

"Holy –" she shouts, dropping her book bag on the ground in surprise, because hovering roughly a foot above her head is none other than Lysander Scamander, perched on a broomstick, grinning down at her. "What in Merlin's name are you doing, Scamander?" she demands.

He chuckles. "Just out for a ride," he calls down to her. "You should join me. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

It _is_ a beautiful day, admittedly, with the trees on the grounds turned red and gold and orange in an explosion of color, the brisk wind whipping through Victoire's long blonde hair. _But_, she reminds herself, _that's not the point_. "I have no idea how you got your hands on a broomstick, Scamander, but regardless, I'm fairly certain you're breaking about twenty school rules right now. Shouldn't you be in class?" she scolds him sharply.

Laughing, Lysander shoots upward on his broomstick, does a sharp turn in the air, and then flies in a circle around Victoire's head, making her both dizzy and seriously aggravated. She stares in awe for a moment at how talented a flier he is, especially for a first year. "I _am_ in class," he replies. "Flying class!"

Victoire puts her hands on her hips. "Where are the rest of your classmates, then, hmmm?" she questions. "Where's _Madam Robins_?"

Lysander's gray eyes widen innocently, which she knows is a sure sign that he's up to no good. Lysander is many things, but never innocent. "I believe she had to deal with an emergency in the broomshed," he explains.

Raising her eyebrows, Victoire asks, "And you wouldn't have had anything to do with that emergency, now, would you?"

He shrugs. "Might've."

When she opens her mouth to tell him off, he goes on hurriedly. "Don't worry, Weasley, no one got hurt," he grins. "I just saw you walking across the grounds all alone and I figured you'd want some company. May I escort you to the greenhouses?"

She gapes at him like an idiot. "No!" she replies, finally regaining her voice. "No, you most certainly may not!"

"Ah, still in denial about your feelings for me, I see," he told her. "That's all right. But I think I'll still accompany you to Herbology."

"I thought I said no," Victoire explains slowly, like she's talking to her little brother.

"You did," Lysander replies cheerfully. "But the thing is," he glides down to whisper in her ear, "How are you gonna stop me?"

Victoire reaches out to grab at the end of his broomstick in anger, but he's too quick for her, and he rapidly shoots up out of her reach, laughing all the while. She huffs in frustration, picks her bag up off the ground, and begins storming to the greenhouse. Lysander's right, of course, she can hardly stop him from following her when he's on a broom. And he keeps up a steady stream of chatter to her the entire way, no matter how much she ignores him.

..

"So I heard you haven't got a boyfriend."

She jumps in surprise, but rolls her eyes when she looks next to her and realizes it's just Lysander, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air to walk next to her in the fourth floor corridor. _I should really be used to this by now_.

"I'm through with boys," Victoire tells him, truthfully. Ever since the incident with Marlon Quaid last spring, she'd done a good job of sticking to her own no-boys rule, instead focusing on her studies. (She is still top of the class in Arithmancy, and she intends to keep it that way.) Never mind the fact that Octavius Scrimgeour won't stop asking her out, never mind that her ex-boyfriend Jake keeps pestering her to get back together with him. She's become the untouchable ice queen when it comes to boys, and no matter how much the wizards of Hogwarts pester her, she intends to keep it that way.

"I support that position," Lysander tells her seriously, sounding for all the world like he's a member of Wizengamot. As they walk, he slides her bag off her shoulder and carries it for her, but she's too surprised by his words to pay his actions much notice.

"You _do_?" she questions disbelievingly.

Lysander smirks at her. "Of course," he responds. "There's no one worth your time, anyway, Weasley. You're too good for these idiots."

He's rendered her speechless, which Victoire hates but can't very well do anything about. Maybe…could it be possible…is Lysander Scamander finally maturing?

He completely ruins the effect, though, a moment later, when he leans in and murmurs, "And in a couple of years, when I'm old enough, all your waiting will have been worth your while." She glares at him, but he only winks at her. "I'll make sure of it."

She rolls her eyes. _Typical_. "Please. It'll take a few more years than a 'couple' before you're old enough for me," she tells him condescendingly.

Lysander's eyes light up. "So you're admitting that I'll be old enough for you someday!"

"That's not what I meant!" Victoire protests, but he's already handed her back her bag and begun running down the hallway, laughing gleefully to himself.

..

At the Leaving Feast that year, Gryffindor is announced as the winner of the House Cup. Victoire's happy, of course, but her excitement quickly turns to disgust as she watches Olivia and her new boyfriend snog passionately in celebration at the good news.

"I think I might vomit," Victoire mutters crossly to Flossy.

Flossy sighs. "I think it's _romantic_," the black-haired girl replies dreamily, her blue eyes staring enviously at Olivia.

"Sure, romantically grotesque," responds Victoire darkly.

As the students file out of the Great Hall, Victoire suddenly hears screaming and shouting. She cranes her neck to see above the sea of young witches and wizards, and her eyes widen when she sees globs of sticky, apparently enchanted goo falling from the ceiling on ostensibly random students.

"Get it off me!" screeches Alberta Applebee, the Head Girl.

"Eurgh!" exclaims Violet Nebenshaw, fifth year Slytherin prefect and owner of a meticulously maintained head of auburn curls. "It's ruining my _hair_!"

As Victoire glances around, she realizes that the goo isn't falling on random students at all – it's somehow targeting the prefects and various authority figures.

It isn't hard to guess who's responsible – after all, ever since the school year started, Hogwarts has seen a massive spike in the number of pranks and practical jokes played around the castle, a trend that suspiciously coincided with Lysander Scamander's entrance into the school. He's gained quite the reputation as a troublemaker, which he takes great delight in and which annoys the school's authority figures to no end.

_This is probably his way of getting revenge on the prefects for giving him so many detentions this year_, Victoire thinks to herself. She glances around the crowd of students, searching for Lysander, who'd no doubt be utterly pleased with his handiwork, as usual. It really is a wonder Gryffindor had won the House Cup at all this year, what with how many points Lysander had lost for them.

Finally, she spots him, standing in the middle of the crowd, his eyes lit up with mirth, cackling mischievously at the utter havoc he's created. Most of the students haven't yet caught on that the enchanted goo is only targeting prefects and are dashing around in a panic, shielding their heads from the ceiling.

Victoire narrows her eyes and begins pushing other students out of her way, making a beeline for the little dark-haired troublemaker. "Scamander!" she calls threateningly, and he glances over at her, a smirk on his face. She is distracted all of a sudden, though, when out of the corner of her eye, she sees Marlon Quaid, seventh year Hufflepuff prefect, shouting expletives at the top of his lungs, battling with a particularly resilient batch of Lysander's goo that has covered him from the top of his head to his arms.

Victoire's hated Marlon ever since he'd assaulted her in the corridor last year, and she can't help but be amused by his current predicament. Despite herself, Victoire lets out a quiet laugh at his intrepid but futile battle with the sticky substance.

She looks back at Lysander and is dismayed to see that he's observed her amusement, heard her laugh. She quickly composes herself, reassumes her practiced veneer of aloofness and frost, but it's too late: Lysander's already beaming at her, his gray eyes shining. Victoire has probably just made his whole year.

She ignores the feeling of warmth that spreads through her at his expression and turns away coldly.

..

That summer at her grandparents' party, Victoire is utterly distracted by Teddy, who's taken off his shirt to play broomless Quidditch with her siblings and the Scamanders and most of her younger cousins. Victoire has to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep herself from going over and asking if she can play too, just so she can get a closer look at those _muscles_. She can't, of course – she's fifteen years old now, for Merlin's sake, and besides, she's always been rubbish at sports.

Next to her, Molly watches Teddy too, her hazel eyes wide and intent.

Victoire's so engrossed, it takes her mother three tries at calling her name before Victoire finally hears it.

..

She gets her Prefect badge in the post that summer, and between the congratulatory hugs of her parents and relatives she smiles softly to herself. Victoire can hardly wait to assume her role – she's already certain that she'll be one of the best prefects Gryffindor's ever had. Her vast experience with her younger cousins means that the younger students naturally look up to her ("_They're terrified of you!"_ she hears Olivia laugh in her head, but Victoire chooses to ignore it).

Her cousin Lucy starts Hogwarts and is sorted into Ravenclaw, the first Weasley to go into a house other than Gryffindor in a long while. Victoire claps enthusiastically and goes over to hug Lucy once the Sorting is over. It's rather a good thing, she thinks, because the family has been needing to branch out a little anyway.

Once the Feast has ended, she stands up and claps her hands loudly. "First years!" she calls. "Gryffindor first years, follow me!"

She sees the new Gryffindors rise up from an area near the front of the table where they all seem to have congregated. Victoire notices with a narrowing of her eyes that Lysander has been sitting among them. _No doubt being a bad influence already_, she thinks.

Victoire ignores the other new Gryffindor prefect, Timothy Griffiths, who she already knows will be absolutely useless when it comes to discipline or effectiveness. When the ten first years begin to follow her up the staircases and through the corridors, they look absolutely petrified with fear. _Am I coming on too strongly?_ Victoire wonders to herself, and tries to soften her gaze and speak more kindly.

"Now, the password at the moment is 'Mackled Malaclaw,' although this changes periodically," Victoire continues her instructions. "You are not to share this password with students from other houses. When you get to the portrait of the Fat Lady, you are to tell her this phrase."

One of the first year boys raises his hand hesitantly, and Victoire rolls her eyes at being interrupted. "Yes?" she asks impatiently.

The boy gulps audibly. "Um, pardon me, ma'am. But is it true that the Fat Lady will spit burning hot fireballs at you if you don't say the password in under a half-second?" he questions nervously.

Victoire looks at the boy like he's insane. _What a peculiar little child_, she thinks. "No…" she replies slowly in confusion. "No, that's not true at all…"

She continues leading the first years up the staircase, but before she can speak again, a girl raises her hand. Victoire sighs and gestures for the girl to speak. "Excuse me, miss, is it true that at the end of term, the Headmaster chooses the first year with the worst Potions grade to be sacrificed to the Whomping Willow?"

_What in the world…? _Victoire raises her eyebrows. "Er, no, that's not true either. My, you've certainly got some vivid imaginations in your class. I imagine Divination lessons in a couple years will be most interesting."

She turns to continue up the stairs, when suddenly she feels a shift and looks around to realize that the staircase is moving. Victoire rolls her eyes – she hates it when the staircases change, as she's not exactly the most patient witch in the world.

But Victoire's irritation is quickly replaced with bewilderment when she hears the ten eleven-year-olds on the staircase with her begin screaming as if they're being chased by an Acromantula. She hears loud sobbing from some of them, and two girls are clutching each other, sheer terror on their pale faces. Several of the first years run to her, grabbing onto her for comfort.

"It's all right!" Victoire shouts above the pandemonium. "Really, it's all going to be fine! The staircases just do this sometimes." She looks down at her charges, but it seems her words haven't calmed them at all. "What in the name of Merlin has gotten into all of you?"

A little boy clutches her robes in a viselike grip, looking up at her fearfully. "He said that if you're on a staircase and it starts moving it means it's going to plummet hundreds of stories and you're going to die!" the boy cries.

At this, Victoire narrows her eyes. "Who's this 'he?'" she asks, though she has her suspicions.

"Lysander!" the boy tells her tearfully. "You know, the boy from the First Year Welcoming Committee. He was the one who told us all the things to watch out for at Hogwarts!"

Victoire heaves a deep breath, which comes out more like a growl. "There is no First Year Welcoming Committee," she spits out through clenched teeth.

Finally, once she's dried all of the first years' tears and set them straight about all of the lies Lysander had told them (and honestly, some of the things he's thought up are straight out of a horror novel – Victoire wonders briefly whether he might be a danger to society), she ushers them into the common room and shows them their dormitories. She's certain they'll be having nightmares for weeks with the stories Lysander had told them.

Once she's deposited the first years in their rooms, she stomps down the girls' staircase, scanning the room for that familiar tousle of dark hair. She finally spots him near the fireplace, surrounded by a group of his second year friends (yes, unfortunately, he'd made quite a few mates last year, despite Victoire's predictions), all of whom look up to him as their fearless leader. Victoire marches over to the circle, shoves her way to the center, and grabs Lysander by the collar.

"Weasley," he smirks. "Here to have your wicked way with me?"

A few of his friends laugh at this, but they're quickly silenced by the formidable glare Victoire sends their way. She turns to scowl at Lysander again, keeping her grip on his robes tight. "What were you thinking?" she snarls. "Thanks to you, I have ten traumatized children on my hands. I had to convince one girl not to pack her bags and go home, she's so scared."

"Damn, I figured you'd be a strict prefect, but I didn't think you'd be that bad!" Lysander replies cheekily. He shrugs. "Ah, well, you'll get better with practice."

Victoire ignores his nonsense and tells him, "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Scamander."

He groans loudly and his friends begin to protest, but she merely smiles vindictively. "I hope I won't have to take any more."

..

She does have to take more – several more, in fact. Lysander finds himself in detention almost constantly for his various antics, and the rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass dwindle to a pitifully small number.

Victoire doesn't think of it as abusing her power, exactly; she just considers herself the first prefect with enough backbone to start to try to curb Lysander's reign of terror over the school.

..

Lysander makes the Quidditch team as Chaser that year, simultaneously becoming the youngest current member of the House team and ruining Quidditch for Victoire forever.

She attends the first match against Slytherin with Flossy and Olivia, but she glowers the entire time. Lysander makes the most goals out of anyone, and of course he can't help but show off on his broom, flying figure eights and zigzags in the air just to prove he's the best flyer on the pitch. Gryffindor wins, of course, and she rolls her eyes as his teammates lift him into the air on the pitch, cheering, "Scamander! Scamander!" _That's the _last_ thing he needs_, Victoire thinks. _His head's already big enough as is_.

Later that night, however, she forgets all about her annoyance at Lysander's Quidditch prowess as she gets ready for the victory party going on in the common room.

"Hot damn, you're going to have every boy in Gryffindor drooling over those legs," Flossy tells her enviously, staring at Victoire's miniskirt, as she applies lipstick.

"Forget the legs," Olivia says, curling Victoire's hair for her. "Look how tight that top is! You really do have the perfect figure, Victoire."

Victoire brushes off her friends' compliments, but as she looks in the mirror one last time before going downstairs to the common room, she privately thinks that she looks fabulous. _I could probably go out clubbing in London and no one would guess that I'm only fifteen_, she muses.

The three friends descend the girls' staircase to a chorus of whistles and catcalls. "Hey Weasley, wanna go on a tour of Hogwarts' broom cupboards with me?"

She rolls her eyes. "In your dreams, Jewkes," she sneers at the cocky arsehole of a sixth year.

"Oh, I can guarantee you that you are," he shoots back with a lewd smile.

Victoire ignores him and ventures over to go congratulate the Captain of the Quidditch team, Ali MacFarlan, who jubilantly invites her to do shots of Firewhiskey with her and the rest of her teammates.

"Sure!" laughs Victoire, and she's led over to a table in the center of the room with a massive crowd around it. The throng of people parts willingly for Victoire and Ali, and Victoire is quickly ushered in between the team's two Beaters, both burly sixth years. She glances around the table at the rest of the House side, and her gaze darkens when it falls on Lysander. He's just turned thirteen a few weeks ago, but this clearly is far from his first time drinking Firewhiskey, if his talent at downing the shots is any indication. Victoire paces herself as she drinks, though the Beaters on either side of her keep passing her more shot glasses. Lysander smirks at her from across the table, his eyes twinkling.

Eventually, the team disperses, and Victoire's still talking to the two Beaters when she feels a strong hand grab her bare shoulder. She whirls around, ready to tell Jewkes off again, but the rebuke dies on her lips when she sees herself looking into the warm hazel eyes of Teddy Lupin.

"Teddy!" she greets happily, the alcohol having gone to her head a little by this point. "How are you?"

He ignores her question, choosing instead to cross his arms and begin to pull his sweater over his head. Victoire's lips part involuntarily, her eyes glued to his movements. Ever since the summer, she's had dreams of Teddy taking off his shirt in front of her, but she'd never thought it would actually happen.

His T-shirt stays on, though, and Teddy holds his jumper out to Victoire. "Would you please put this on?" he asks her gruffly. "That outfit is hardly appropriate."

"What do you mean?" Victoire frowns.

"I mean, Vic," he hisses, "that every boy here, first year to seventh, is ogling your chest right now."

She rolls her eyes. "I can wear whatever I want," she grumbles, but she takes his sweater from him and pulls it over her head. It's one of her grandma's, so she's sure she confuses some people by wearing an oversized jumper with a large "T" on it at a party, but she doesn't mind. It's comfortable and it smells wonderful, like books and hot cocoa and like, well, _Teddy_.

She holds out her arms, the sleeves so long that they cover her hands, and strikes a pose for Teddy. "How do I look?" she asks him jokingly with a giggle. She knows that Olivia's job on her hair is probably demolished by pulling the sweater over her head, and the sweater is so big on her that it covers both her shirt and her skirt entirely.

Victoire expects Teddy to laugh at how ridiculous she looks, but instead he just swallows and stares at her, hard. "Beautiful," he tells her solemnly, before turning around and quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Victoire stares after him, eyes wide, wondering what the hell's just happened.

..

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!


	3. chapter three

_i can take the cold from your bones_

chapter three

..

It's Christmastime at the Burrow and all the Weasley kids are decorating the tree, which is a stupendously tall affair of haphazard homemade ornaments and a wild mess of garland that seems to have gotten a bit out of Hugo's control as he was decorating.

"Pass me that star ornament, Mol," Victoire says to Molly, who reaches up from where she's seated on the floor, stringing popcorn, to give Victoire the shiny gold ornament in question.

Victoire's always been in charge of hanging the ornaments on the higher branches, since she's the tallest of all her cousins, so she aims this time for a large branch a couple feet above her head. Even on her tiptoes, though, she still can't quite reach it.

Suddenly, Victoire feels herself enveloped by warmth, and her back is pressed against Teddy's front. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself not to sigh with delight, and she feels Teddy's two strong arms come around her on either side. "Let me help you with that," he whispers in her ear, and he plucks the ornament from her hand to hang it on the branch she'd been reaching for.

Victoire can still feel his warm breath on her ear, and she feels marvelous, cocooned up against him like this. They stay that way for a bit too long, but the spell is broken when Aunt Hermione calls, "Teddy, would you help me with this, please?" from the other side of the room, and Teddy clears his throat, backing away from Victoire.

"Thanks," she breathes, as he begins to turn away to go over to help her aunt.

"Don't mention it," he replies in a voice that makes Victoire go all shivery.

Once he's crossed the room, Victoire finally lets out that sigh. She sinks down onto the floor beside Molly, because she doesn't feel like her legs will hold her for much longer if she's standing up. "Don't you just love Christmas, Mol?" Victoire asks her cousin dreamily, still staring after Teddy.

"Sure," Molly replies in a clipped tone, and looks at Victoire with frost in her eyes.

Victoire wrinkles her eyebrows at Molly's uncharacteristically surly behavior, but she's distracted from asking Molly what's wrong by a shout from the corner. She looks over and groans when she realizes that James and Dominique have gotten Lily and Louis tied up in the tinsel. Lily is kicking at her captors furiously and screaming her head off, and Louis is trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to untie himself.

"James!" Victoire jumps up, heading over to deal with the situation. "Dom! You know Grandma banned you two from the tinsel after what happened last year!"

..

On Victoire's sixteenth birthday, her friends throw her a surprise party in the Gryffindor common room. She's seated around the fire with a large group of the older students in the house, opening her presents and sneaking secret looks at Teddy, who's seated next to her on the couch, from the corner of her eye. Flossy gives her a pair of heels that Victoire's certain must have cost a fortune, but then again, Flossy's father owns half of Wizarding London, so it's not as though she can't afford it. Olivia gets her lingerie so scandalous that Victoire blushes for a good minute after she opens it. She peeks at Teddy, who seems to have lost his ability to breathe at the sight of Olivia's gift, and grins her thanks at Olivia. Teddy gives her a breathtaking necklace, a silver chain with an aquamarine center.

"It's gorgeous, Teddy," she breathes, staring at how the firelight glints off the stone.

He smiles down at her. "Well, I figured, aquamarine's your birthstone, so…" She looks up at him and beams, and he murmurs, "and it matches your eyes."

"Help me put it on," she tells him, and turns away, lifting up her hair so he can reach around her neck and clasp the necklace. "Thank you, Ted, this is so thoughtful of you, it's perf –"

But Victoire is cut off by a loud explosion from behind her. She whirls around on the couch to see what's happened, and her mouth falls open in shock when she sees an impressive display of Filibuster's fireworks exploding in the center of the common room.

"What's going on?" she hears Teddy ask, but she's already jumped up from her seat and is making her way around the couch.

As she approaches the chaos, she sees a gaggle of younger students staring up at the Catherine wheels and stars blooming in the air above them. "This is wicked cool!" she hears a third year exclaim.

As Victoire fights through the crowd, she looks up and sees fireworks exploding in the shape of letters. _H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y_ _V-I-C-T-O-I-E-R_, she reads with some confusion.

"_Shit_," she hears from a few feet away. "Matt, you idiot, I told you, it's 'R-E,' not 'E-R!'"

"Sorry, Lysander!" comes the response, and Victoire narrows her eyes. _Of course_. Who else could it be, after all?

"Scamander!" she yells above the racket of explosions and whizzes and bangs and shouts from wowed Gryffindors. It takes a moment for her to be able to see him through all the smoke, but when she does, he's grinning incorrigibly at her, his face blackened with soot, presumably from the fireworks.

"Happy sixteenth, Weasley," he tells her nonchalantly, looking entirely too unperturbed for a boy who knows his life is in grave danger.

"How did you get these in here?" she shouts at him, bringing her hands up to shield her head from any stray Catherine wheels. "You know perfectly well that Filibuster's _anything_ is strictly forbidden at Hogwarts!"

He just shrugs at her, and she huffs in frustration. "Fifty points from Gryffindor!" she tells him threateningly. "Don't you know how dangerous this is, especially in such a small space?"

"Vic!" she hears Flossy and Olivia run up behind her. "Sorry, we didn't know!"

She looks at her friends questioningly.

"Lysander told us he was going to have a surprise for you at the party," Flossy explains breathlessly. "We didn't know it would be fireworks!"

Victoire rolls her eyes. "Surprises from him are usually highly illegal and a terrible idea," she replies.

"Oh, come on, Vic, he worked really hard on it," Olivia wheedles. "Don't be so hard on the poor kid."

"I'm a prefect," Victoire responds icily to the tan girl. "It's my job to enforce the rules."

Her friends' faces fall, but as she storms away, she sees Lysander, chuckling to himself, his good mood irrepressible as always.

..

One morning in April, Victoire wakes up early and wanders out onto the grounds, feeling restless and unable to sleep. She finally settles down under the large beech tree by the Black Lake, reading a book she checked out from the library.

Just after the sunrise, a shadow falls over the page Victoire's reading. She looks up and is startled to see Teddy, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking down at her.

"Teddy!" she exclaims with a smile. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you," he replies quietly.

She looks up at him quizzically, setting her book down slowly rising to her feet. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"I have my ways," he responds cryptically, and Victoire quirks an eyebrow. It's not like him to be so mysterious.

She laughs. "Teddy Lupin, secret agent," she teases him, giggling.

"Vic," he says, and then he swallows, looking away from her and out at the early morning sun reflecting on the water.

"What is it?" she frowns. "Is everything all right?"

"No!" he bursts. He runs a frustrated hand through his brown hair. "No, actually, everything's not all right. I can't stop thinking about you, Vic," he exclaims, and Victoire feels her stomach drop pleasantly. "This year's been absolute hell, you can't even imagine, I've tried to get you out of my head but your smile's fucking burned into my brain permanently, it seems. Even my Amortentia smells like your perfume," he concludes, and looks mildly embarrassed.

Victoire starts to smile at his words. She's had a crush on Teddy since she was fourteen, though of course she'd ignored it back then because she'd been in her No Boys Era, and besides, Teddy was gorgeous and two years older and nothing but a silly _dream_ of hers, or so she'd thought. This year, she's started to notice the way he looks at her sometimes when he thinks she can't see him, the way he says her name ("_Vic_," like it's a tender caress), the way he gets jealous when she talks to other boys, and she's dared to hope. "Well then," she says quietly, leaning back against the beech tree and grinning up at him. "What do you propose we do about it?"

He looks down at her in wonder, and she bites her lip at the look he's giving her, how full of affection and warmth his hazel eyes are. Teddy takes in her smile and stares at her determinedly, stepping forward and picking up a piece of her hair, absentmindedly running it through his fingers. "I propose," he begins in a low voice, "that we stop talking about it now."

Then he takes her into his strong arms, her arms go around his neck, and he leans down to meet her mouth in a gentle kiss.

"Oh, _Teddy_," she sighs into his mouth, and she runs her fingers through his hair, which is just as silky smooth as she's always imagined it to be.

He responds by leaning her up against the tree trunk, one hand on her hip, his thumb under her shirt and stroking her smooth stomach.

She leans her head back against the trunk as he places light kisses down her jaw and neck and sighs blissfully.

..

Teddy becomes Victoire's boyfriend – cuddling in the common room, dates in Hogsmeade, the whole nine yards – though she convinces him to keep it a secret from the Weasley clan back home. She doesn't think she can take the incessant questions and meddling that would happen if everyone were to find out. Her younger cousins would tease her mercilessly, and the adults would be nosy and interfering and entirely too watchful. Besides, if her dad found out that Teddy was dating his precious daughter, he'd never let Victoire out of his sight. And she plans to spend the whole summer sneaking off to snog Teddy, anyway, which will be much easier if no one suspects anything.

They don't keep it a secret at school, though, so of course Molly and Lucy find out. But Victoire knows she can trust them not to tell anyone else in the family.

One night she comes back to the common room after an evening in the library, working on an Herbology essay, and she sees Teddy sitting on a couch next to Molly, helping her with her Defense homework. Victoire grins and heads over to them, dropping down next to Teddy and leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, Ted, Mol," she greets happily, snuggling into Teddy's side as he snakes an arm around her.

Teddy smiles over at her, but Molly just sulks, crossing her arms glumly. "Oops, sorry, Molly, I won't distract you two from that homework, I promise!" Victoire quickly says.

"No, babe, it's all right, you can stay." Teddy tries to grab her as she stands up to leave, but Victoire's too speedy for him.

She laughs as she walks toward the girls' staircase. "Good night!" she tells him firmly.

..

On a warm and lazy Friday afternoon in late May, Victoire's outside for a stroll with her mates when Lysander, ostensibly on a dare from his friends, comes out of nowhere and shoves her into the Black Lake.

Victoire surfaces, spluttering furiously. "How dare you! You insufferable arsehole!" she shrieks. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for a complete and utter lack of respect for your elders!"

Flossy and Olivia are falling all over each other, laughing helplessly, so Victoire has to drag herself out of the water herself, wringing out her hair while shouting insults and shooting hexes at a smug Lysander, who dodges all of them.

After the lake incident, Lysander becomes something of a legend among the boys of Hogwarts, thanks to the way the water made Victoire's white school blouse clingy and almost completely transparent.

..

Near the end of term, Victoire is in Teddy's dormitory one night, fooling around with her soon to be graduating boyfriend. They still haven't had sex, but she falls asleep in his arms and wakes up the next morning realizing she's going to have a lot of explaining to do to the girls in her dormitory. It's still early, and Teddy's sleeping so peacefully that she can't bear to wake him, so she slides quietly out of his bed and tiptoes out of the seventh year boys' dorm, shutting the door silently behind her.

She treads softly down the boys' staircase, crossing her fingers that the common room will be empty when she has to cross it. But before she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she hears a door open. Victoire looks over to see who it is and of course, of bloody _course_, it's Lysander, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he yawns and exits the second year dormitory.

Victoire freezes in place, hoping foolishly that he won't notice her. But of course he does, and he takes in her appearance: tangled blonde hair falling around her shoulders, her outfit from yesterday, her wrinkled skirt. Lysander's far too worldly for a thirteen-year-old, so of course she knows what he's thinking, even though it isn't true. _I didn't sleep with him_, she wants to explain. _That is, I just _fell asleep_ in his bed, that's all!_ But of course she doesn't say that; it's not like she has to explain herself to him, and besides, Victoire and Teddy are dating, so this is perfectly normal behavior, anyway.

But she can't help the flush that comes to her cheeks as sees his face fall, his eyes harden. Victoire looks down at the floor self-consciously, all the while thinking how absurd it is to feel like she owes anything to this…this…well, he's still a _child_, isn't he?

And then Lysander restores the situation to normalcy by remarking nonchalantly, "Don't worry, Weasley, I won't tell." He smirks, and motions for her to enter the common room in front of him.

She descends the stairs shakily and walks over to the girls' staircase. Before she walks up it, she turns around to look at Lysander once more. He's still standing at the foot of the boys' staircase, watching her go, and they look at each other wordlessly for a moment before Victoire remembers herself and pivots to dash up the stairs and into her own warm bed.

..

Gryffindor loses the House Cup that year, miserably, and the house's members are divided fairly evenly in whether they place their blame on Lysander, for losing the majority of the points, or Victoire, for taking them away.

Victoire turns her nose up, emphatically ignoring the censure of her housemates, but Lysander basks in the attention, vividly recounting some of his worse exploits for his friends.

"I'll think of you all summer," he informs her cheekily on the Hogwarts Express the next day, and she sighs wearily to the hills of the Scottish countryside racing by outside.

"Please don't," she counters glacially, before going to kick some first years out of a compartment under the guise of prefect business so she and Teddy can have it to themselves.

..

Teddy moves into his own flat soon after he graduates, and Victoire sneaks over to visit as often as she can, alternatively using visiting Flossy, Olivia, and Molly as cover stories to her parents.

One sticky, sweaty day, when they're in his bedroom, Victoire feels as though she can't stop, doesn't want to stop, and when he tells him this he pulls away to look at her earnestly. "You're sure?" he questions.

She nods. "Of course, Teddy, I love you."

"I mean it, Vic, are you really, really sure?" he asks again, and she laughs at how noble he is before reaching up to pull his head down to meet his lips with a kiss.

_I love you, I love you, I love you_, he murmurs into her skin, and it hurts, it hurts like _hell,_ but Teddy's slow and gentle and _I love you, I love you, I love you_, and Victoire presses kisses into his hair because he's so wonderful, so perfect, and he's all she could ever ask for and more.

"You were perfect, Ted," she tells him afterward, her head resting on his chest, her hand stroking slowly down his bare torso.

"I didn't hurt you too much?" he asks her, and she shakes her head no, kissing his collarbone softly. "Oh, Vic," he sighs into her hair, "my wonderful, beautiful Vic."

..

She misses almost the entirety of the annual party at the Burrow that year because she and Teddy have snuck off to one of her uncles' old bedrooms. Even though he's put dozens of charms on the door, he's still terrified that one of her relatives will catch them and then proceed to kill him for snogging their darling Victoire. It doesn't take her long to convince him to stay, though, and she laughs inside at how deliciously wrong it feels to be snogging her secret boyfriend inside her grandparents' house while her entire family is just in the backyard.

..

**A/N: **I hope you can endure a little Teddy/Victoire along the way! Don't worry, things will start to change soon. Please take a moment to review if you liked it.


	4. chapter four

**A/N: **I had to change the timeline around a little to put the infamous Teddy and Vic snogging on the platform one year earlier than it was in the epilogue (i.e. at the start of James' first year, not Albus'). I hope nobody minds.

..

_i can take the cold from your bones_

chapter four

..

The first of September is one of the most chaotic days Victoire thinks she's ever had. Dominique is finally eleven, and their mother is in hysterics half the morning, unwilling to accept the fact that both of her daughters are growing up and leaving her. Louis is only eight and is in a foul mood, sulking nonstop and acting uncharacteristically sullen whenever Victoire tries to reason with him. When her family finally arrives at the platform, Aunt Ginny is screaming her head off at James, who's also a first year, because she's found Dungbombs in his trunk. This inspires Victoire's mother and Aunt Angelina to check Dominique and Fred's things as well, and of course all three of the mischievous eleven-year-olds have hidden away various contraband items from Uncle George's shop. Victoire's mum joins Aunt Ginny in shouting at the kids, and Victoire ducks behind her hair, mortified at all the attention her flamboyant family is attracting on the platform, as if they weren't already noticeable enough due to sheer number and the presence of Harry Potter. Thankfully, Louis cheers up a bit when he sees Lily and Albus and Roxy, who are all losing a sibling to Hogwarts this year as well, but when Victoire's mum starts lecturing Dominique in French about her unladylike behavior, Victoire knows she's got to get away before she goes mental.

Teddy had wanted to meet Victoire at the station to say goodbye, even though she'd warned him it would be too risky, what with all her family members there. But he'd insisted, so when she sees him grinning over at her, looking like he's just rolled out of bed, she quickly drags him away, where she's sure no one will see them together.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Vic," he tells her, kissing every inch of her face.

"Yes, I'll miss you, too, of course," she replies fondly, but he cuts off her word with an impassioned kiss, and she supposes she won't get another chance to do this for a while, so she lets him.

She pays for it dearly soon enough, though, because _of course_ it's just her luck that James happens upon them and tells the whole family. James is rubbish at keeping secrets, so it's really no surprise, but the news about Teddy and Victoire serves the additional purpose of distracting all the adults so that James, Fred, and Dominique can make a surreptitious escape from being reprimanded onto the train.

"Victoire!" her mum shrieks. "How long have you been keeping this from us?"

"Was this going on all summer?" her dad questions sternly. "I left you two alone together far too often!"

"I know you'll take good care of her, son," Uncle Harry claps Teddy on the back.

"Can you believe the _nerve_ of James?" Aunt Ginny asks Victoire in commiseration. "I'm so sorry."

"It's so _romantic_," sighs Roxy to Lily.

"It's so _disgusting_!" Lily sticks out her tongue.

"Lily's right," adds Louis, "I don't want to hear about that stuff."

Thank _Merlin _Victoire can slip away onto the train, leaving her interfering, loud family behind for the relative peace of the Hogwarts Express.

The peace is pitifully short-lived, though, because Victoire hears shouting from one of the compartments and she knows before she even arrives to look inside that it's the handiwork of her relatives. Sure enough, James, Fred, and Dominique have scared some of their fellow first years with a prank from the joke shop, and Victoire confiscates it after scolding them sternly. She knows James is the mastermind, so she takes her sister aside and pleads with her to behave herself. "Dom," Victoire begs, "Will you please try to keep the boys in line? Trust me, you don't want to spend all of your weekends at Hogwarts in detention."

But Dominique just gives her an impish grin before she's whisked away by James, no doubt off to terrorize some new compartment.

Victoire leans against the nearest wall, closes her eyes, and sighs with exhaustion. She supposes this is what it'll be like at school for her from now on. Gone are the days of relative peace, when she and Uncle Percy's daughters had been the only Weasleys at the school. She doubts Hogwarts is equipped to handle the utter havoc James, Dominique, and Fred are about to wreak on the castle, though she reckons Lysander's been pretty good preparation.

Her moment alone is just that, momentary, and then she's whisked away by Flossy and Olivia, Flossy regaling them with tales of her summer at a resort in the Seychelles, where she'd apparently spent her entire holiday spurning the advances of the devastatingly handsome son of an American billionaire.

Then without a moment to lose, she's off to the prefects' meeting, where Violet Nebenshaw and Jasper Madley, the new Head Girl and Boy, get the year off to a disastrous start by getting into a ferocious screaming match with each other.

Since Violet and Jasper are too distracted by yelling at each other to conclude the meeting, Victoire decides that _somebody_ has to take charge and volunteers herself and the clueless as ever Timothy Griffiths, her fellow Gryffindor sixth year, to take the first shift of patrolling the train. The other prefects look at her gratefully and file hurriedly out of the prefects' carriage, eager to escape the escalating fight between the Heads.

Timothy takes the front half of the train, and Victoire the back. She walks with some trepidation through the carriages, praying that she won't catch her sister or cousins causing any trouble but knowing how unlikely that is.

She glances into a compartment, thinking she's just spotted Dominique, but it turns out to be another blonde girl instead. When Victoire turns away, she's startled (although by now, she really shouldn't be) to see Lysander, who like usual seems to have materialized out of thin air, leaning insouciantly against the wall a few doors in front of her.

But he looks strikingly different, in no small part due to the fact that he's clearly undergone a remarkably prodigious growth spurt. He's only a third year, but he looks at least fifteen or sixteen, his dark hair falling into his tanned face, that omnipresent smirk gracing his lips.

Victoire can't do anything but stare up at him, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that this striking young man is the same Lysander who'd pushed her into the lake just a few months ago.

"I'll have my mum owl a photo of myself for you, if you'd like, Weasley, then you can stare at me whenever you like," he suggests brazenly, and Victoire's eyes widen when she realizes his voice has dropped at least an octave, into a low and masculine drawl.

_Thirteen, he's only thirteen_, she reminds herself over and over as she approaches him slowly. Ignoring his words, she cranes her neck to marvel up at him. "You…_grew_," she observes rather dimly. He must have grown at least four or five inches, because he's much taller than Victoire is now.

Lysander cocks an eyebrow. "You noticed," he retorts evenly.

She forces herself to stop gaping at him like a daft cow and regain some of her famous composure. "I trust Lorcan and your parents are well," she says after searching too long for something to say, berating herself afterward for making such an insipid comment.

His eyes dance with mirth, and she squirms inwardly at the certainty that he can tell what she's thinking. "They are," he responds, amused.

Victoire glances everywhere in the compartment but up at his face, but for one of the first times in her life, she honestly can't think what to say to fill the silence. Lysander saves her when he offhandedly remarks, "Just seen James."

"Oh?" she asks, "Where? I hope he hasn't gotten into too much trouble since I last saw him."

"Wouldn't count on it," he advises her wryly. "He burst into my compartment a few minutes ago, begging me to hide him from some girl whose toad he'd exploded."

"_What?!"_ Victoire exclaims in horror. "Well? Did you?"

Lysander grins down at her. "Of course," he replies.

"Scamander!" she shouts. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking?"

He laughs at her outrage and tries, as usual, to smoothly talk his way out of it. Victoire rebukes him harshly, but secretly, she's relieved that things are once again back to normal between the two of them.

..

Dominique goes into Gryffindor, as do James and Fred, of course, and Victoire is half relieved that she'll be able to keep a close eye on the three troublemakers and half horrified at how hellish the common room's sure to be from now on.

Lysander demonstrates that despite his recent physical maturity, he's just as incorrigible as ever. He enlists James, Fred, and Dominique's help and tells all the other new Gryffindor first years that Victoire's name is _Mrs. Scamander_, by which they are to address her at all times.

At least she doesn't have to deal with the crying and hysteria of the first years she did last year, with Lysander feeding them lies about Hogwarts; but Victoire thinks this might be worse. Anytime one of the first years needs anything, she's reminded of _him_.

Victoire spends the next two years with seven children singsonging, "Good morning, Mrs. Scamander," whenever they pass her in the corridors, and she never runs out of ways she imagines murdering Lysander in her head.

..

Early one Tuesday morning, Victoire is seated alone at breakfast, munching on a slice of toast and scanning the Daily Prophet. Olivia's over at the Slytherin table, eating with the latest in her steady stream of boyfriends. ("I just get sick of them so easily," she laughs to Victoire when she looks at Olivia with concern.) And Victoire may be a Gryffindor, but she's certainly not courageous enough to attempt to rouse Flossy from bed before she's ready – she's seen what Flossy does to people who try to wake her up too early, and it's not pretty. Victoire doesn't mind eating alone; it gives her time to relax and read the paper, steeling herself for the long day ahead.

She's reading an article about a Centaur advocacy group when she feels a heated breath on the side of her face and a low voice whispers in her ear, "_Je te désire_."

She jumps about a foot into the air and whirls around, startled. Her eyes widen when she sees a smug Lysander standing over here. He slides onto the bench next to her and leans in to whisper to her again before she can protest. "_Laisse moi te prendre, ma chérie! Touches-moi sur tout mon corps_," his voice glides effortlessly over the French words. Victoire drops her knife in shock.

Her body's gone all tingly, and Victoire forgets to swallow or breathe as she listens to Lysander proposition her in her family's native language. All she can do his gawk at him helplessly. She finally gains the presence of mind to reach out for her glass of water and takes a drink to calm herself down.

He sends her this absurdly suggestive smirk and murmurs, "_Je veux mourir de la petite mort_," and Victoire chokes on the water in her mouth. He can't _possibly_ know what he's just said to her, but then, it's _Lysander_ so of course he does.

"Where did you learn to say those things?" she gasps, and she hates how proud of himself he looks at the moment.

Lysander grins. "The library."

"I don't think…the Hogwarts library…has those kinds of books," Victoire replies breathlessly.

He merely smirks and sneaks away, entirely too pleased with himself, leaving her shocked and appalled and scandalized and, mortifyingly, a little turned on, all at the same time.

She presses her palms flat against the smooth wood of the bench on either side of her legs, and scowls darkly down at her breakfast. It's far too early in the morning to be feeling such things.

..

She used to think that Hogwarts meant a respite from her inborn duty, as the eldest Weasley cousin, to babysit and mind all of her younger relatives. But in sixth year, she's back to her old around-the-clock built-in nanny position, not by choice, mind you.

The teachers have resorted to begging Victoire to try to exercise some control over James, Fred, and her sister, who have apparently made every first year lesson with Gryffindor absolute chaos. Victoire sympathizes, she really does, but it's always been bloody impossible to control the three of them, especially James. It certainly doesn't help that he and his "mentor" of sorts, Lysander, have always been thick as thieves.

And to top it all off, Molly, who's always been wonderfully sweet and well behaved, seems to have decided that she's going to start rebelling this year. She's shocked her teachers by starting to rack up detentions. Plus, she's chopped her long red curls short, and she's charmed her shirts to be tighter and her skirts to be shorter. She wears a dark outline of kohl around her once innocent hazel eyes, a splash of blush on her cheeks, and lipstick. Molly's only just fourteen, but she certainly doesn't look it, especially not to the boys she's begun to purposefully tantalize.

While on patrol, Victoire catches Molly stumbling out of broom cupboards far too often, and of course she can't write Uncle Percy and tattle on what his oldest daughter's been up to (Lucy will probably take care of that herself, knowing her), but Victoire wants to do _something _to stop Molly before she gets too far on her path of self-destruction.

Victoire has tried talking to her little cousin dozens of times, but Molly, who'd once idolized her so, is completely impassive to her advice.

One night, Victoire is patrolling with Timothy when they hear moans and whispers from a dark classroom, telltale signs that students are breaking curfew to rendezvous. She leads the way up to the door and shoves it open, Timothy trailing behind her pointlessly. He never does anything on patrols, except of course for letting his own friends off easy whenever they're caught breaking curfew.

"All right, that's quite enough, back to your common rooms, the both of you," Victoire says boredly as she walks into the classroom. She holds out her wand to illuminate the room and inhales sharply when she sees who the couple is. "Molly!" she exclaims. "Stop that right now." It's Molly and a Slytherin in Victoire's year, Apollo Gamp, both half-naked. "You too, Gamp. Put your clothes back on."

Like most Hogwarts students, Apollo is cowed by Victoire's commanding presence as a prefect, so he immediately breaks away from Molly and starts pulling his shirt back on and zipping up his pants, looking sheepish. Molly, on the other hand, just crosses her arms, glaring over at Victoire.

"Seems like you really get a kick out of doing this on your patrols, huh, _Vic_," Molly says acerbically.

Victoire frowns at her cousin's words. "No, Molly, but I have to. It's part of my duties as a prefect," she explains.

Molly laughs derisively. "Oh, right, sorry, I'd forgotten. You're _perfect prefect_ Victoire, utterly flawless in every way."

Dismayed at Molly's harshness, Victoire orders, "Tim, please escort Gamp back to the Slytherin common room." The two boys hurry eagerly out of the room, glad to escape the crossfire of the Weasley girls' argument.

"What, don't like him because he's a Slytherin?" Molly asks Victoire tauntingly.

Victoire rolls her eyes. "No, it's nothing like that. I have no opinion of Gamp whatsoever. It's you I'm concerned about."

Molly glowers. "There's nothing to be concerned about, honestly, I don't know why you're so –"

"Because you're only fourteen, Mol, and I catch you with a different boy every other night! This isn't like you!"

"How do _you_ know what's 'like me?'" Molly retorts crossly. "I'm not a baby anymore. You can't expect to spend your whole life bossing me around and controlling everything I do."

"I know that!" Victoire exclaims. "And I'm sorry if you feel like I've been too domineering, I only want to help."

Molly rolls her hazel eyes. "You can drop the Saint Victoire act with me."

Victoire blanches at Molly's viciousness. "I don't know what's gotten into you!" She crosses over to sit beside Molly on the professor's desk. "Why are you acting like this, Mol? Is it for attention? Are you angry with your parents? Do you just want to grow up faster?"

Molly huffs in frustration and jumps off the desk, stomping across the room toward the door. "I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand," she snaps, and she ignores Victoire the whole way back to Gryffindor Tower.

..

The first Hogsmeade weekend of the year rolls around like clockwork, and Victoire feels strangely whenever she thinks about the thought of seeing Teddy again. He's coming up to visit her for a date at the Three Broomsticks. They've been writing each other letters, him telling her all about his new job at the Whizz Hard Books, the publishing company, her filling him in on the details of her crazy sixth year. Teddy's letters have been nice – he's an excellent writer, after all, and he always writes such nice things about how much he misses her and how wonderful she is and how he's thinking about her always. And it feels good to have an older boyfriend who's already graduated; it makes Victoire feel very grown-up and sophisticated among her classmates. But the problem, the thing she keeps pushing to the back of her mind so she won't have to puzzle through it, is that she doesn't find herself missing Teddy all that much, or at least not as much as a girlfriend should. She's usually so busy with NEWT classes and prefect duties and keeping Dominique and her cousins in line that she forgets to even think about Teddy, except when his letters arrive. Victoire feels awful about it.

She puts on her light blue shirt that Teddy likes so much, runs her brush through her hair a few times, then descends the staircase into the common room. She sees James, Fred, Dominique, and their gang of first years seated around the fireplace, playing an awfully rambunctious game of Exploding Snap. Victoire makes her way toward them, making sure not to get too close for fear of catching on fire.

"Dom," she voices, "Now, I'm going to be gone from the castle for a just few hours. Please try not to get into trouble in that short time?"

"Can't make any promises!" her sister calls over her shoulder, intently focused on the card game.

Victoire sighs despairingly. "James, Fred, you'll be good boys, won't you? If you behave yourselves, I'll bring you back something from Hogsmeade. What do you want, chocolate from Honeydukes?"

Fred shakes his head at her. "That's all right, Vic. Lysander already promised James he'd bring us back everything we need, you know, from my dad's shop –"

"FRED!" Dominique shouts warningly, and James claps a hand over Fred's mouth before he can say anything else incriminating to Victoire.

James lets out a manic chuckle. "That Fred, he's such a joker, am I right, Vic?" he laughs convincingly, but Victoire simply narrows her eyes at him.

"Lysander Scamander is a horrible influence," she scolds, her hands on her hips. "And I won't allow him to abuse his Hogsmeade privileges by purchasing prohibited items for first years."

"Well, you're too late," James smirks. "He's already left for the village."

"Yeah, we saw him meet some girls in here earlier and then go down," Dominique mentions offhandedly.

At this, Victoire frowns a goodbye at her relatives and storms out of the portrait hole, slamming the door behind her. One of these days, Lysander was going to have to start behaving himself. And if he didn't, she'd make him.

She thinks back to what Dominique had said about Lysander meeting girls. Victoire remembers telling him, years ago, how much she doubted that he'd ever have any luck with girls his own age. But she'd been radically wrong, unfortunately. Lysander is only a third year, but he already has girls chasing after him. Victoire supposes she can see how young, impressionable girls of twelve, thirteen, or fourteen might find the whole "arrogant bad boy" routine alluring at first, and all right, maybe Lysander is by far the best-looking boy in his year, and sure, he's tall and funny and charismatic and creative and charming and –

"Vic!" she hears Olivia's voice call, and Victoire realizes she's made it all the way down to the ground floor distracted by thinking of _him_, which is really far too absurd to even contemplate so she pushes it out of her mind.

"Hey," she greets her friend. Olivia's with her date, who Victoire thinks might be either a Ravenclaw fifth year or a Hufflepuff seventh year, but she can't be sure. She's stopped trying to learn the names of all the blokes Olivia sees, because there are just far too many of them, and it's not like Olivia ever keeps any of them around for very long, anyway.

"We're going down to the village now, want to join?" questions Olivia, and Victoire nods.

When they arrive in Hogsmeade, Olivia and her date go off to Dervish & Banges, and Victoire makes her way down High Street to the Three Broomsticks. She's barely set foot into the pub when she feels arms wrap around her and she's lifted off the ground and twirled around.

"Teddy!" she exclaims, and he pulls her to him for a long kiss. When she decides that the snog has been going on for far too long, Victoire pulls her head away from his. They're in _public_, for Merlin's sake, she doesn't want all of Hogwarts seeing her make out with her boyfriend, after all.

"Merlin, I've missed you so much," he murmurs to her, staring at her face like he's trying to imprint it into his memory.

She smiles up at him. "Yeah, I've missed you, too," and it's not _really_ a lie, she loves Teddy, she always has, always will.

They go up to the bar, where Madam Rosmerta is happy to see both of them, and order butterbeers. Teddy guides Victoire over to a booth, acting solicitously and behaving like the perfect gentleman. "So tell me, Vic, tell me everything you've been up to this year. I know I read it in your letters but I want to hear it from you. How are classes? Have you started studying for exams yet?"

Victoire replies, and they have a long conversation about her classes and his advice for NEWTs. And she tries, she tries _so_ hard, to stay interested in the exchange, but she keeps getting distracted by things she sees through the window.

_Merlin, I hope Dom and the boys are still where I left them and not off terrorizing the castle_, she thinks, staring at Teddy's kind face as he speaks to her but not really listening to what he's saying. _And ooh, that horrible Scamander, if he buys them fireworks I'll curse him into the next century_!

"My boss is pretty tough, but I try to stay out of her way most of the time and it seems to be working," Teddy's saying.

Victoire blinks. She'd thought they were still talking about school, but apparently the conversation had turned to his job without her realizing. "Oh?" Victoire replies noncommittally, as she's been doing most of afternoon.

He goes on and on about his work at the publisher, and Victoire can only try desperately to maintain a look of attentiveness on her face. She wonders if this is what it's like to grow up – meeting for a drink at the pub, talking about work. It's almost like she and Teddy are already and old married couple, and she wants to scream, _I'm only sixteen years old! I want to be wild, have fun, make mistakes! _But she's Teddy Lupin's girlfriend, and Teddy's too kind and good and earnest to make mistakes. She lets out a small sigh and takes a sip of her butterbeer.

" – do you think?" Teddy has just finished asking her a question.

Victoire looks at him, startled. She hasn't been paying attention to anything he's been saying. "Um," she stalls, not wanting to admit how distracted she's been their entire date. After all, sweet Teddy had come all the way here to see her after being apart for two months. Victoire coughs, and her eyes light up when she spots a flash of red hair across the pub. "Oh look, Ted, there's Molly!"

Teddy turns to look, and his eyes widen when he takes in Molly's new look. She's leaning against the bar, talking to two boys. Her outfit doesn't leave much to the imagination, and her lips are curled up in a dark red smirk. "That's _Molly_?" Teddy nearly chokes on his butterbeer.

Victoire nods. "Yeah, she's been really…_different_ this year. Getting detentions, seeing loads of boys…I don't know. It's strange."

"Well, have you done anything about it?"

"Yes, I've tried to talk to her more times than I can count. Getting through to her is hopeless." Victoire shrugs. "I think it's just a phase. She'll grow out of it."

They watch as Molly leaves the pub with one of the boys, her hips swaying as she walks.

"Huh," Teddy says, his brow wrinkled. He looks across the table at Victoire. "I guess you really do have your hands full managing the little cousins this year."

She nods. "You don't even know the half of it."

They chat for a little longer, and soon enough, they've both finished their drinks. "I'll go and get us refills," Teddy tells her, and gets up to head over to the bar, where what looks like the entire seventh year has just swarmed. He sighs. "Hopefully this doesn't take too long."

Victoire smiles at him as he goes, but privately, she agrees with him. She feels terrible, but she hasn't been having much fun on this date at all. She can't shake the thought that she'd rather be shopping with Flossy and Olivia than here with Teddy.

"What's a girl like you doing sitting alone in a place like this?" A smooth male voice cuts through her silent reverie, and she doesn't even have to look up to see that it's Lysander.

"Scamander. I see Hogsmeade has finally found their village idiot."

He grins down at her, that roguish grin that does funny things to her stomach. "Nice to see you're as glad to see me as always, Weasley." He slides into the recently vacated seat across the table from her.

She scowls at him and then remembers what Lysander had apparently promised James. "I have a bone to pick with you," she tells him sternly.

He raises his eyebrows. "Pick away," he replies suggestively, and she doesn't understand how he can make such a simple comment sound so…inappropriate.

Victoire purses her lips. "Did you or did you not promise my cousin that you'd smuggle banned products back into the castle?"

Lysander pauses for a moment, pretending to consider her question. "Depends which cousin."

"You know perfectly well which cousin!" she exclaims.

He shakes his head. "Now, now, I don't think Lucy would be too happy with you if she knew you were implying that she might have something to do with banned items."

"Ugh!" she huffs in frustration. "You're infuriating."

Lysander smirks. "You can't get enough of me."

Victoire glares frostily at him. "Go away, I wouldn't want anyone thinking I'm here with you, after all," she tells him, glancing around to see if anyone is looking at the two of them.

"Why not?" he asks her, his gaze bold. "You'd probably be having loads more fun with me than you are with Lupin."

She whips her head around. "_What?_"

"You heard me," he goes on audaciously. "I saw you sitting here with him. You looked bored out of your mind. Hogsmeade weekends are supposed to be fun, yeah? Well, you seemed like you were in a History of Magic lesson."

"How _dare_ you –" she begins furiously. "Were you _spying_ on me?"

He rolls his eyes at her. "No, Weasley, I'm not stalking you or anything, Merlin. But I'm sitting just over there with my mates and I saw you two come in," here his face tightens, "so I couldn't help but notice you and how terrible a time it looked like you were having."

Victoire is fuming by this point. "_You_," she hisses, "are a vile, vile boy, and I never want to speak to you again!" she finishes with a cry.

Lysander only smiles at her. "Calm down," he tells her. "You're making a scene."

Victoire glances around the pub, noticing that a few students are giving her strange looks. She forces herself to take a few deep breaths and sits back in her seat, still glaring daggers at him.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" Lysander smirks over at her. "You know, Weasley, we should do this more often, you're really a charming date, you know that?" he teases.

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, I'm having a truly tremendous time with you," she deadpans.

"Glad to hear it," he smiles. Then, before she can take stock of what's happening, she feels his hand reach under the table to start to stroke her knee.

"_Scamander_!" she hisses. "Stop that this instant!"

He only grins lazily at her, stroking her leg in dizzying circles. Despite herself, Victoire's eyes start to flutter shut at how nice it feels. She feels warm all over, this is _heavenly_, really, and she _never_ wants him to stop, not _ever, _and –

Suddenly, Lysander's hand is gone from her leg and Victoire's eyes fly open to see him jumping up out of his seat.

She quickly registers that Teddy's just returned, and as he sets their drinks down on the table he exclaims, "Lysander Scamander!"

Victoire's mouth goes dry.

"Merlin, you've really shot up since the last time I saw you," Teddy is saying. "It's great to see you, kid!" He reaches out a hand and ruffles Lysander's dark hair.

Lysander's face is stoic as he gives Teddy a surly nod. "Lupin," he says curtly, and then he slides away into the crowd.

"Wow, I can't believe how fast all these kids are growing up!" Teddy marvels as he slides into the booth. "Lysander seemed a little testy, what do you think's got his wand in a knot?"

Victoire reaches out and takes a large gulp of her butterbeer. "No idea," she lies.

..

**A/N: **I'm sorry if I butchered the French!


	5. chapter five

_i can take the cold from your bones_

chapter five

..

Running her hands through her hair in frustration, Victoire stares down at the open copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration _on the table in front of her. It's late, so late that most students have by now long abandoned their spots in the library and gone back to their common rooms. Victoire wishes she could do likewise, but she has a monster of a Transfiguration essay due tomorrow and with prefect duties and all of her other work, she hadn't gotten around to it until tonight.

"Bollocks," she whispers to herself as she looks down at the small bit of parchment she'd covered in ink thus far, and then at the several inches she still has to go. This essay feels impossible to write. She's only just now realizing how much extra research she should have been doing to write it, research for which one night won't be nearly enough time. _Looks like it's going to be an all-nighter_.

Abruptly, Victoire shoves her chair back from her table and jumps out of her seat. She's not going to be able to go any further without more detail on human Transfiguration.

She rushes over to the Transfiguration section of the library. "Cross-Species Transfiguration…Conjuring…" she mutters to herself as she runs her hand over the spines of the old books, scanning for something, _anything_, that will be useful in writing the essay.

"Where the _bloody hell_ can I find a fucking book on human Transfiguration?" Victoire finally exclaims in annoyance. She knows it's the library, where quiet is always strictly enforced, but it's so late that there's no one else around to mind her little outburst, anyway. And this search is really becoming enormously frustrating. She hasn't the time to go on searching like this, not with all the inches she still has to go!

"Have you tried looking under 'A' for Animagi?" comes a low voice from her right, and Victoire lets out a cry of surprise. She whips her head around to look, her heart pounding in her chest in shock because she hadn't thought anyone was around.

Of course it's Lysander.

"_Merlin!"_ Victoire gasps, her hand flying to her heart. "You scared me!"

Lysander just chuckles at her, gray eyes twinkling. "Evidently."

"What do you think you're doing, lurking around in the bookshelves so late at night like this, just popping out from the shadows to terrify innocent students like me?" she asks him crossly, still willing the pounding of her heart to slow down.

"Hell, Weasley, you make me sound like a creepy stalker," he tells her, eyebrows raised.

She just stares pointedly back at him. _That was the point_ goes unsaid.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" Victoire questions, crossing her arms. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" she adds wryly, knowing perfectly well that he's fourteen now and hardly young enough to have a bedtime, but old habits die hard and she's always mocked him for being younger, so why stop now?

"I was in here earlier studying with my mates. Left my Defense book," he explains, his eyes focused intently on her in a way that makes her feel a little lightheaded. The library is shrouded in darkness, but his silvery gray eyes are bright. "I came back to get it, but I heard you talking to yourself like a madwoman over here so I thought I'd come see who it was."

Victoire rolls her eyes. "Oh, that's rich, _you_ calling _me_ mad." She stares up at him defiantly, her chin jutted out. She's not actually very offended by his words, but something in her wants to pick a fight with Lysander, wants to finally wipe that smug expression off his face, wants to make him finally show some emotion other than arrogant nonchalance.

He smirks, his face haughty in the darkness. "You're the one who's talking to herself alone in the library at night."

"I have _mountains_ of homework, which can be rather stressful!" she seethes. "Not that you would understand, of course, being a puny little third year, but we sixth years are –"

She's cut off by Lysander's roar of laughter. Victoire huffs in impatience when he still hasn't stopped laughing to himself after a few moments. "What?" she finally bursts, her hands on her hips, unamused.

"I'm sorry," he tells her, still chuckling. "It's just, it's been a long time since anyone's called me 'puny' or 'little.'"

He looks terribly entertained by her words, and that infuriates Victoire. What right does this _boy_ have to make fun of her, nearly three years his senior, a prefect, the indomitable _Victoire Weasley_, for Merlin's sake? She glowers at him.

Lysander laughs even more at her expression. "Aw, don't give me that face, Weasley," he tells her. "I know that in your head you still like to think of me as that eight-year-old kid who kissed you all those summers ago," he shakes his head in amusement, "but, like it or not, I've grown up a bit since then."

She glares at him, and the mere fact that she has to tilt her head back and look up to do so makes her _livid_ because it proves that he's right, of course, he's grown up, and what makes her even angrier is that despite what he thinks, she _has_ noticed. Oh, she's noticed, all right – noticed his long legs striding past her in the corridors, noticed his booming laugh in the common room, noticed his arms outstretched for the Quaffle at Quidditch matches, noticed his deep voice whenever he speaks to her. And she shouldn't notice these things about Lysander Scamander, the exasperating troublemaker who's tormented her for years, but she _does_ and it's just not fair because she's _Victoire_ and she's supposed to be unflappable, aloof, the ultimate ice queen.

So she turns up her nose at him as if she were still eleven or twelve and he were still nothing but the little nuisance who sometimes popped up to annoy her at family parties. Because that's how she wants (needs) to pretend things still are, even though nothing could be further from the truth. "Really?" she sneers, and then lies through her teeth, "You still don't look a day over ten to me."

Lysander scoffs at this, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Oh, is that so?" he rejoins, taking a step toward her daringly, challengingly.

Victoire hears her heart thump in her chest in the quiet library, deserted save for the two of them. Her palms are sweaty and she wants to take a step back, because he's too _close_ to her right now, far too close, actually she'd rather like to bolt like a scared little girl and run all the way back to her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, but she stands her ground and nods back at him defiantly.

"Well then," he goes on, "I'd say that makes you a bit of a pedophile."

She narrows her blue eyes at him. "What?" she snaps.

"You heard me," Lysander replies. "Because you're attracted to me. And if you think I look ten, well that's a bit of a sticky situation, then, isn't it?"

His tone is light and casual but his gaze isn't. He's looking at her blazingly and it makes her stomach churn nervously.

"I," she begins menacingly, "am _not_ attracted to you." She's proud of herself for saying it so firmly and convincingly until she realizes how horrifying it is that she even had to _try_ to make it sound convincing in the first place.

Lysander shakes his head, smirking like it's his job. "You keep saying that, Weasley," he tells her maddeningly, taking another step toward her, his hand trailing slowly along the books' spines lining the shelves.

Victoire swallows and tries to keep calm. She doesn't know what's gotten into her tonight. Her usually impeccable composure has completely deserted her and left her a hopeless bundle of nerves. "Because it's true," she responds shakily, fisting her skirt into her hand tightly.

"Unfortunately," he says, advancing even closer, his eyes dark, "I don't believe you."

And then Victoire is panicking because he's right in front of her and she can feel every nerve ending in her body sounding an alarm – _Danger, danger!_ – and she wants to run away and hide in the Restricted Section or something but it's like her feet are frozen to the ground and all she can do is stand there, helpless. He grins down at her, clearly enjoying her flustered state. And then he reaches out a hand and lets his fingers ghost over her arm, the small of her back, her shoulder, so lightly that she can't even be sure if he's actually touching her or if she's just imagining it.

She shudders from the sensation and looks up at him pleadingly, wanting him to stop but needing him to go on, and he looks down at her with the most determined look in his eyes she's ever seen.

Then he's _definitely_ touching her, there can be no mistake this time, as he runs one hand up her leg to settle on her waist and the other goes to her hair, stroking. She looks at him in astonishment and his expression is difficult to read but he looks almost reverent, like he can hardly believe that she's letting him get so close. She can hardly believe it either, but then she's not exactly thinking at the moment, considering her head seems to be completely empty save for a rather pleasant floating sensation.

He keeps on stroking her hair and leans his head down, very, very slowly. Victoire has been absolutely still through all of this and she still doesn't move a muscle as he traces the curve of her ear with the tip of his nose and then replaces it with his lips, kissing softly down her jaw, over to her face. He lingers over her lips for a moment, and it feels like the very universe is hovering in timelessness as she feels his hot breath intermingling with hers through her parted lips, which are burning, _burning_, from being so near to his without touching them.

And then he leans ever so slightly forward and his lips brush hers and Victoire's whole body is crying out. But his lips can't have been on hers for more than a millisecond before she abruptly kicks into action, bringing up her arms, placing her hands on his torso and pushing him away, hard.

They stand a length apart from each other, in between the library shelves, just staring at each other. Victoire takes in his concentrated expression as she tries to force herself to breathe normally.

"I have a boyfriend," she tells him, trying for measured and steady and _almost_ achieving it.

And she knows instantly from the look in his eyes that that's the wrong response. Because it used to be _Get away from me_ or _Ew, that was disgusting_ or _You horrid little boy_. And instead of any of those tried-and-true reactions, she's just told him she has a boyfriend, which is practically validating Lysander as a threat to her and Teddy's relationship. Which is _ridiculous_.

Lysander doesn't reply, just looks at her with those searing eyes and nods almost imperceptibly.

"You should go now," Victoire tells him.

He gazes down at her for a moment, and then suddenly he is taking a step forward, reaching his arms up. Victoire shrinks back against the bookshelf behind her. He's going to kiss her again, she's sure of it, except this time she doesn't know if she'll have the willpower to stop him –

But then he's reaching above her head, pulling a book off the shelf, taking a step back, and shoving the book into her hands. "Try this," he murmurs, and then he's gone, disappeared into the shadows of the shelves.

She glances down at the book in her hand – _Helpful Hints for Human Transfiguration_ – and her breath catches in her throat.

She slowly and unsteadily walks back to the desk with all of her things on it and takes her seat to resume writing her essay. As she flips through the book he'd given her, Victoire raises a shaky hand to her lips, her fingers unable to stop the tingling.

..

It's December when Victoire realizes that she's fallen out of love with Teddy. It isn't a sudden thing; no, it had been more of a gradual growing apart that, when she looks back on it, seems rather natural and inevitable. It has nothing to do with anyone else but the two of them. Teddy is too gentle for her, too patient, too kind and earnest, and even though those things used to make her heart flutter when she thought about him, now they just make her sigh a bit with ennui and restlessness.

She boards the train to go home for Christmas resignedly. She'd rather stay at school and take more exams than go back and face Teddy and the family, who have been building up their relationship ever since September, and how pathetic is _that_?

..

Maybe it's listening to Uncle Harry's stories, maybe it's watching Molly stand up to her father, but Victoire finally finds the Gryffindor courage inside her to break up with Teddy one afternoon over the winter holidays.

She cries, he's devastated, but when Victoire leaves his flat, she smiles up at the snowflakes falling out of the sun even though the brightness just about blinds her.

..

On the first day back after break, Victoire is hurrying down a side corridor on the first floor. She'd been up late last night patrolling and of course trying to get Flossy out of bed on time this morning had been a massive undertaking, and now she's rushed and anxious about getting to class on time.

So of course the last thing Victoire needs is to glance up and see a laughing Lysander strutting down the hall toward her, flanked by his ragtag gang of third year mates. They're laughing and pushing each other and mucking about, as third year boys are wont to do, and Victoire holds her breath, hoping that maybe she can make it past them on her way to class without them noticing her. But then Lysander's eyes catch hers and she inhales sharply.

"Go on ahead without me," Lysander tells his friends, waving them on. "Save me a seat, Matt, will you?"

"Sure," the boy replies, and then the other four are off and it's just Lysander left there, standing in the middle of the hallway, grinning down at Victoire like he's never been so happy to see her in his life. It's that smile that makes Victoire very nervous, and she speeds up and tries to dodge around him to continue toward the Defense classroom.

But Lysander is quick and agile, and the two of them play a little game of sorts as they weave around the other students in the corridor. Victoire wants to whirl around and shout at him, "Isn't your classroom in the OTHER direction?" but then she's pretending to ignore him and that pretense would fall apart if she did so.

Eventually, the hallway is cleared of students, and Victoire has wasted so much time trying to lose Lysander among the crowd that she's almost certain class has started and that he's made her late. Infuriated, she stops in her wild path and pauses, taking a moment to catch her breath, before turning around to tell off her pursuer.

But her rebuke dies on her lips when she sees Lysander, far closer to her than she'd thought he'd be. He's standing right in front of her in the empty hallway and she wants to yell at him but the look on his face is like his birthday has just come early, like Gryffindor's just won the Quidditch Cup, and like he's gotten all O's on his exams _combined_. She's never seen such a look of pure and unadulterated _joy_ even on the always charismatic Lysander before, and it makes her heart stop and her voice catch in her throat.

Lysander is beaming down at her, his gray eyes light and shining, and he says, "I heard you finally came to your senses and ended things with Lupin."

_Shit_, Victoire thinks, and her eyes widen nervously. She tries to remain nonchalant but she really is in deep shit now. "Where'd you hear that?" She goes for casual aloofness and _almost_ makes it.

"James," Lysander replies, and she rolls her eyes because _of fucking course_.

She puts aside thoughts of killing her little cousin for later and instead focuses on maintaining her composure. "Most of the things that come out of James' mouth are a lie," she tells him truthfully, and her eyes _dare_ him to call her out on trying to change the subject.

But Lysander ignores her fierce stance and advances toward her, and even though she steps backward in response he won't stop. That maddening twinkle is in his eyes again and his grin is threatening to take over his entire face. "But this wasn't," he responds.

Her silence is confirmation, because not even the ice queen herself has the heart to lie to him and take that euphoric look off his face. He lets out a whoop of delight and rushes forward to pull her to him in a bone-crushing hug. She screams in surprise, and she shrieks even louder when she suddenly feels herself lifted off the ground and being spun in the air by him.

"Scamander!" she screams, but then he's laughing gleefully and she can't help but laugh a bit as well at how it feels to be twirled through the air in the strong arms of a boy who is beaming at her like she is his everything.

And then, almost before she realizes what's happening, he sets her back on the ground but doesn't let go, and his arms crush her to him and then he's kissing her, his lips insistent against hers and his hands clutching her robes like he never wants to let her go.

Victoire quickly comes to her senses and the smile dies on her lips as she pushes down all thoughts of how nice his lips feel against hers. She twists out of his embrace and pushes him away. "Stop that at once!" she yells, her cheeks red with something she can't name.

Even her anger isn't enough to wipe the grin off his face, and he just looks down at her happily, a piece of dark hair falling into his face.

She huffs in frustration. "This doesn't mean anything," she insists, and she knows that he knows she's talking about breaking up with Teddy. She's even more annoyed when even that doesn't stop him from smiling.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor!" she shouts at him. "Don't ever come near me again!"

But Lysander just laughs at her. "I'm terrified," he chuckles.

Seething, Victoire adds, "And another five points, because now you've made me late for Defense!"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm doing you a favor, then."

"You should be in class too!"

"Please," he laughs, "I have History. Binns can't tell Lorcan and me apart."

"Really?" Victoire replies. "I'll have to explain it to him. One of you has _manners_ and the other one…well, the other is an impudent, presumptuous arsehole who lacks the social grace to exist in refined civilization."

Lysander merely smirks at her as he backs away, heading down the hall in the opposite direction, "Aw, come on, Lorcan's not all that bad, is he?"

Victoire shrieks in frustration. She gets to Defense ten minutes late.

..

Flossy and Olivia get into an argument one evening in the common room that somehow blows up into a fight of epic proportions. It gets to the point where Victoire can't even remember what the original disagreement was about, and she highly doubts either of her best friends can, either. Nevertheless, the two girls refuse to speak to each other, and Victoire spends a large part of the winter and spring trying to play mediator between the two of them.

Eventually she gives up, sick of being caught in the middle. She refuses to take a side and resigns herself to having to split up her time between her friends. It's exhausting, and between that and avoiding Lysander, trying to get through to Molly, and babysitting James, Fred, and Dominique, Victoire feels justified when she foregoes the April Hogsmeade weekend to curl up in her bed and sleep for all of Saturday. She deserves at least one day of rest, after all.

..

"Gryffindor! Gryffindor!"

Victoire scowls and blocks her ears to try to drown out some of the ear-splitting chanting coming from the row behind her. It's the last Quidditch match of the year, and Victoire couldn't be more thankful. She's loathed attending games ever since the discovery of "star Chaser" Lysander Scamander last year. Lysander always shows off dreadfully at matches, and Gryffindor hasn't lost a game since he joined the team. If the way this match against Ravenclaw is going holds up, it'll be the second year in a row for Gryffindor to win the Quidditch Cup, a fact that has made all of Victoire's housemates giddy with glee. She, however, just wants to go back to the castle and continue revising for exams.

"And Scamander's got the Quaffle, no surprise there, and he once again zooms across the pitch," the boy commentating the match says. "He shoots, he scores! Another goal for Gryffindor!"

The stands around Victoire go wild. She's seated in between Flossy and Olivia (who still aren't speaking to each other), and they both jump up as Victoire stays seated, boredly glancing down at her fingernails.

"Scamander is _killing_ it out here today, folks, this may be his best match yet," says the commentator, and Victoire glowers up at his box.

The game resumes and the crowd settles down again. Victoire watches through narrowed eyes as Lysander zooms around the pitch in a victory lap. He flies close to the Gryffindor section and receives a rowdy welcome from his adoring housemates, everyone clad in scarlet and gold cheering and applauding except for Victoire. She's trying to avoid looking at him, but he looks so arrogant and insufferable that she can't help but glare, which is when she notices that he's looking right back at _her_.

At first she thinks she's hallucinating, because how can he possibly see her among a sea of their housemates, but she's positive he does when he smirks and winks at her.

Victoire wants to scream in frustration. He's got that _look_ about him, that utterly nonchalant and smug look, just sitting there, perched on his broom, smirking at her like he thinks he's the greatest thing in the world. She scowls back at him, ignoring the way her stomach flipped when he winked at her.

"Come on, Weasley!" he suddenly bellows, and she can hardly believe it's happening but everyone around her is staring at her so it must be real. "Show a little house spirit! You look like you're for Ravenclaw!"

Her cheeks flush against her will as all of Gryffindor turns to glare at her in the stands, and she's so embarrassed she can't even find the words to scold Lysander. He simply laughs at her, winks again, and then flies off to intercept the Quaffle from a Ravenclaw pass.

"The Quaffle's back in Gryffindor's possession, as Scamander intercepts it from Carmichael and is heading toward the goalposts!"

Once the match is over (Gryffindor wins, of course), Victoire escapes to the library to study for exams, eager to avoid the madness of the common room and the victory party that is sure to ensue. _Eager to avoid Scamander_, a niggling voice in the back of her head says, but she ignores it and tries to memorize Charms incantations instead. She stays late in the library, but all night, try as she might, she can't get the image of Lysander up in the air, the late spring wind whipping through his tousle of untidy hair, winking down at her, out of her head.

..

**A/N:** Reviews are always very appreciated!


	6. chapter six

_i can take the cold from your bones_

chapter six

..

"The first-year Gryffindors have set off Dungbombs in one of the girls' bathrooms again," sighs Violet Nebenshaw. It's one of the last prefects' meetings of the year, but Victoire supposes it was too much to hope for one meeting to go by without mention of her troublemaking relatives. "Detentions are proving to be an ineffective way of dealing with the mischief," the Head Girl goes on. The auburn-haired Slytherin looks at Victoire pleadingly. "Weasley, they're your family, can't you do something about this?"

Victoire forces a tight-lipped smile. "I know, I'm sorry," she says, apologizing for her relatives' behavior for what feels like the billionth time this year. "I'll try talking to them again."

"Typical," the Head Boy, Jasper Madley, rolls his eyes, clearly irritated. At first, thinking he is talking about her, Victoire is angry with him. _I can't control them!_ she wants to shout. _Why does everyone always expect me to be responsible for their behavior? _But then Victoire realizes that Jasper is glaring at Violet. "Trying to get someone else to do your work for you. How very Slytherin," he spits at the Head Girl in disgust.

"Oh, really?" exclaims Violet, her hands on her hips, her color rising. "Well, at least I know how to take charge! _You're_ the one who can never make up his mind, who never has any good ideas, who doesn't actually _do_ anything worth noting." She laughs derisively. "But then what else should I have expected from a Hufflepuff?"

Victoire rolls her eyes, and she hears several prefects around her groan. Every single prefects' meeting this year has culminated with the two Heads screaming at each other about something or other. It looks like this one isn't going to be any exception.

The good news is that the meeting is cut short early when Violet storms out in anger at Jasper. The Head Boy chases her down the corridor, yelling as he goes. "You are such a prissy, spoiled brat! I'm the one who has to do all the real work. You're afraid to get your hands dirty!"

All of the other prefects file out of the room, glad to be free at last. Victoire is one of the last ones to leave.

As she's heading back to Gryffindor with Timothy, she sees something out of the corner of her eye down a side corridor. Two figures, two heads of dark, messy hair.

"Uh…" Victoire says, stopping in her tracks and craning her neck to get a better look. "I'll catch you later, Tim, go on without me."

Her fellow prefect shrugs and keeps walking, and Victoire slips away from the group of prefects and turns back to head down the other corridor. She's certain she's just seen Lysander and James plotting something, and she plans to nip it in the bud before it can become another legendary Hogwarts prank.

But apparently, in the short time it took to talk to Timothy, James had gone, because when Victoire strides down the hall, she sees only Lysander standing there.

"Where did James go?" she demands.

Lysander looks at her, eyes widened in a look of fake innocence. "What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Scamander. James was just here, I saw him!"

He shrugs. "Don't know what you're talking about. Maybe all your studying has gone to your head."

Victoire scowls at him. He really knows how to push all of her buttons and make her livid. "You're insufferable!" she yells at him. "And listen up, because I've been meaning to have a talk with you for a while."

At this, Lysander looks so hopeful and excited that Victoire almost laughs at him. "Oh?" he asks in a low voice, stepping closer to her suavely.

She rolls her eyes. "I want to talk to you about _James_, Scamander."

"Oh," he replies, his shoulders sagging.

Victoire smirks at him. "You are a terrible influence on him. I know that half the pranks he plays he couldn't have done without your help. I _strongly_ disapprove of your behavior."

At this, Lysander chuckles and looks down at her. "I don't know if you've ever met the kid, but James Potter isn't exactly a model citizen. I hardly think I'm to blame for his misbehavior."

His gray eyes are dancing, and Victoire glowers at how he always seems to find everything that annoys her so vastly entertaining. "Oh, I know all about James' misbehavior. But I also know that he…he…well, he idolizes you!"

Lysander looks far too pleased at her words. Victoire glares menacingly at him until he has the sense to look somewhat scared.

"And that is _not_ a good thing," she goes on. "You, as laughable as it is, are something of a role model for him. So when he sees you playing pranks and skiving off class and talking back to teachers, he's going to do the same things."

"James is far more brilliant at pranking than I ever was," Lysander tells her. "He's like a little mischief-making genius," he raves, before realizing that Victoire is probably the last person who wants to hear James' troublemaking abilities praised.

"Oh, I'm so glad that James' antics are entertaining to you," she snarls. "But _I'm_ the one who gets letters from home when Dominique winds up in detention again, when James is called to the Headmaster's office, when Fred skives off his fourth lesson in a week. _I'm _the one who all the teachers blame for the problems. _ I'm_ the one who all the prefects expect to control my sister and cousins. So forgive me," she glares, "if I don't appreciate his pranks as much as you do."

Lysander rolls his eyes. "Aw, lighten up, will you, Weasley? At least he knows how to have fun, which is more than I can say about _some_ in his family."

Victoire's hands fly to her hips. "James is a child! I'm an adult. I have to be the responsible one, because clearly no one else around here will be."

"Being responsible doesn't mean that you have to –"

"Ha!" Victoire cuts him off. "And what would _you_ know about being responsible? You're even more irresponsible than James is! You've both broken nearly every school rule there is, but the difference is that James is still a child but _you_ – you're old enough to know better."

Victoire regrets her words the instant they leave her mouth, because Lysander, who had been looking angry for most of her speech, suddenly brightens up when she tells him that he is old enough to know better. "Really?" he asks her, that unbearably smug tone back in his voice. "So you don't think I'm a child anymore, then?"

She tries desperately to backpedal. "No…it's not…you see…"

But nothing she says can stop the cheeky grin from spreading over Lysander's face. "It appears we're making some progress," he says in that low voice of his that makes Victoire shiver a little inside. And then he's looking at her with that daring, determined look in his eyes, and it's like Victoire knows what's about to happen, but she doesn't do anything to stop it. He leans his head down slowly, and she feels her eyes flutter shut as his hand comes up to run through her hair. His mouth meets hers in a soft, slow kiss. It feels _really_ good, too good, almost, and Victoire has to bring her hands up to grab onto his shirt to steady herself from falling backward or melting into a puddle of goo. One of his hands is playing with her hair, and it makes her feel a little lightheaded, and the other is stroking soft lines onto her back, her skin burning even though her blouse is ostensibly separating his fingers from her bare skin. His touch is everywhere – her hair, her back, her lips, and she thinks she can even feel it in every other part of her body. It's when Victoire feels herself about to start kissing him back that she suddenly remembers who he is and who she is and who they are and why this _cannot_ happen.

She shoves him away from her, and when she looks up to take in his expression she has to look away almost immediately. It's not that he's hard to look at – oh no, quite the opposite, really. It's that the sight of Lysander, his eyes dark and lustful, his hair messy as always, his lips parted, his breath coming out uneven, is so very appealing that it scares her.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Victoire manages to gasp out. She shakes her head. "How many more points am I going to have to take from you before you learn that you can't keep…doing _that_?"

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration and laughs darkly. "I dunno," he says huskily, and Victoire has to bite down on the side of her cheek. "I guess the message just isn't getting through to me."

Victoire wants to cry out in frustration but she forces herself to remain somewhat composed. "I'm serious about what I told you earlier, Scamander." She looks at him coolly, her arms crossed. "Grow up."

And then she turns to go, her footsteps echoing in the shadowy corridors as she rushes back to Gryffindor Tower before she can forget herself around him any more.

..

It's no surprise that Gryffindor loses the House Cup once again that year. The points Victoire has taken from Lysander, combined with all the points James, Fred, Dominique, and even Molly have lost, had put Gryffindor so far below the other houses in points that even Professor Longbottom looks ashamed to be Head of Gryffindor at the Leaving Feast. The Weasley family is therefore hardly popular on the last day of school.

Victoire doesn't let that dampen her spirits, though. She's elated at the fact that Flossy and Olivia, after _months_ of fighting, have finally made up.

"Honestly," Flossy laughs as the three friends board the Hogwarts Express, "I can't even remember what we were fighting about in the first place."

"Me neither!" giggles Olivia, and then all three of them are laughing hysterically.

Victoire is still grinning back at the two of them, glad to see them getting along again, when she opens a compartment door and steps inside only to hear a loud, "It's occupied!"

She turns to face forward and apologize to the inhabitants. "Oh, sorry –" but the apology dies on her lips when she sees who is inside the compartment. Victoire's blue eyes widen in shock as she takes in the sight of Violet Nebenshaw perched on Jasper Madley's lap, the two Head students entwined in a heated embrace, snogging as if they're about to die.

Victoire stands there gaping in astonishment for what must be longer than appropriate, because the Head Boy and Girl finally break apart from each other to glare up at her.

"You can go now, Weasley!" Violet sneers at her impatiently.

Jasper grins up at her sheepishly from his seat under Violet. "We realized we didn't hate each other as much as we thought we did," he explains.

Victoire laughs at the ridiculousness of it all and backs away from the compartment as she sees them lean in to begin making out once again.

"Aren't those the Heads who fight constantly?" Olivia asks her as they look for another, _vacant_ compartment.

Victoire nods, still laughing at the memory of Violet and Jasper together. "Yeah, they couldn't stand each other all year. I wonder what changed."

"Sometimes people fight to cover up other feelings," Olivia smirks. "Just look at me and Quentin."

Victoire rolls her eyes. "Which one was he again?" She and Flossy laugh at Olivia's annoyance at her friends' love of making fun of her steady stream of boyfriends. _Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose…_

..

That summer, Victoire is proud to receive the letter informing her that she's been made Head Girl. She _had _expected it, of course, but it feels good to finally be rewarded for all of her hard work in classes and as a prefect. She laughs when she finds out that the Head Boy is Barney Cuffe, a very boring and studious Ravenclaw with a rather unfortunate nose. _No danger of us taking after Violet and Jasper_, Victoire thinks to herself.

At the annual party at the Burrow, the whole family congratulates Victoire on being named Head Girl.

"Just like your dad!" Grandma exclaims proudly, crushing Victoire to her in a hug.

Meanwhile, Uncle Percy is yelling at Molly for not having been made prefect. "This is an absolute disgrace, Molly!" he bellows. "Do you know what an embarrassment to our family it is for you not to be prefect?"

"Yep, that's me, the embarrassment!" Molly screams back, her cheeks red with anger. "I'm surprised you haven't disowned me by now. After all, whether or not I'm made prefect is obviously the one defining characteristic of my personality!"

"I told you that your grades were getting too low," Uncle Percy goes on, "and we've tried to discipline you for those detentions, but nothing seems to work. What on earth is the matter with you? Now you have no chance of getting Head Girl like Victoire –"

"How fucking predictable!" Molly shouts at her father, prompting the few family members still in the kitchen to blanch at the unexpected outburst. The Weasley adults, unlike Victoire, hadn't been at Hogwarts the previous year to witness Molly's increasing rebellion. They still had the idea of Molly as a sweet, obedient good girl, and right now Victoire thinks that her grandma is about to have a heart attack upon hearing Molly use the word "fucking." "It's always 'Victoire this, Victoire that.' Merlin, why is everyone so bloody _obsessed_ with her?"

Victoire sighs. "Mol –" she tries, but Uncle Percy talks over her.

"I will not have you speaking to me like that!" he shouts at his oldest daughter. "You need to work on your behavior, young lady. You're grounded for the rest of the summer."

"I hate you!" Molly screams at her father, before running from the kitchen. Victoire hears her feet pounding on the stairs. She knows by now that trying to go after Molly will do no good.

Uncle Percy looks like he's about to chase after his daughter, but Teddy stops him. "Percy," he says, "leave it for now. She needs some time to cool down."

Uncle Percy glares at Teddy, but he at least heeds his advice and storms outside into the backyard.

"Well!" exclaims Grandma. "I never!"

Aunt Angelina goes over to try to soothe her mother-in-law, and Lucy laughs quietly. "Molly's certainly in for a fun rest of the summer," she sneers, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

Victoire rolls her eyes. Lucy was always a bit of a bratty kid, and now, at thirteen, she's turned into quite the manipulative suck-up. _The girl is positively Machiavellian_, for Merlin's sake, Victoire thinks as she takes in Lucy's expression.

"Did you see how red Uncle Percy's face was?" chortles Hugo.

"Shut it, you lot!" commands Teddy. "I'm going to go check on Molly," he says as he makes his way for the stairs.

Victoire sighs. Teddy means well, but he'll never have any luck getting through to her rebellious little cousin. Victoire should know – she'd had countless talks with Molly last year at school, none of them successful.

Later, the fuss has died down and Victoire is outside, keeping an eye on her younger relatives and chatting to her aunts and uncles. Every couple of minutes, she scans the backyard, looking to see if the Scamanders have arrived yet. She hates herself for doing it, but she can't seem to make herself stop.

Really, she'd be kidding herself if she thought she was looking for any of them but Lysander. She's so used to fighting with him at these parties that he's become practically the defining feature of them for her. Admittedly, she's a little nervous at the thought of seeing him, because with Lysander, she could never predict what he would do next. Would he try to kiss her in front of her whole family? Considering the way the second term of sixth year had gone, she'd hardly be surprised. Victoire blushes just at the thought.

Worse than the nerves, though, is the sense of anticipation Victoire can't stop from coursing through her veins. It feels like it's been ages since June, when she'd last seen him, even though it has really only been a little over a month. Rather annoyingly, the image of Lysander after he'd kissed her in the spring that evening after the prefects' meeting, when she'd been scolding him for being a bad influence on James, has stuck in her brain. That look in his eyes, the lust in his expression, the sound of his uneven breath – it keeps replaying in her mind as vividly as a photograph. And the worst thing is that she's spent all summer trying to studiously avoid thinking about how she'd felt when he'd touched her, his hand stroking her hair, his skin burning hers, his lips…

Victoire remembers herself and wrenches her mind away from that dangerous path. She gazes out at the backyard full of her family members and sighs when she notices Louis and Lily, who seem to think that no one else can see them, perched high up in the tree that they _know_ they're not allowed to climb. "Louis!" she calls, making her way over to the tree. "Lily! I can see you two! Come down right now."

"Be quiet and don't move," she hears Lily whisper to Louis. "She'll go away eventually."

"Uh, I can hear you, too, Lil," Victoire says.

It takes a while to get the two of them down, and once that's over, Victoire is so exhausted she goes and collapses into a chair next to some of her aunts and uncles.

"Rough day?" Aunt Hermione asks sympathetically, and Victoire can only nod and sigh in response.

A few minutes later, Victoire hears an opening in the conversation and with a practiced air of nonchalance, asks, "So, has anyone seen the Scamanders yet?" She maintains her disinterested composure so well that she's certain none of her relatives notice anything off about the question. And why should they? None of them have any reason to believe that Victoire has any special connection to the Scamanders. _Which I don't_, Victoire thinks crossly.

"Oh!" Aunt Ginny says. "I must have forgotten to tell Mum. Luna told me earlier that they couldn't make it today. She and Rolf have taken the boys on some sort of…what was it…nature expedition in the Andes for a month. Or was it the Himalayas?"

The adults continue talking, but Victoire can't hear anything after Aunt Ginny's news, the words replaying over and over again in her mind.

A Lysander-free party at the Burrow. Well, that was something, wasn't it? No Lysander to annoy her, to cause trouble, to stir up mischief among her younger cousins, to bother her.

_No Scamander_, Victoire thinks, and she wills the sinking feeling in her stomach to go away.

..

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	7. chapter seven

_i can take the cold from your bones_

chapter seven

..

"You will write me every week, won't you?"

Victoire sighs impatiently and rolls her eyes. "Maman, yes, as I've done for the past _six years_, I promise I'll write you."

"I can't believe this is your last year at Hogwarts!" Victoire's mother exclaims tearfully. "It seems like just yesterday that you were eleven!"

"Yeah, I know. I have to go, Maman, I…have, uh, Head duties. Bye!" Victoire lies and makes a quick getaway, sacrificing Dominique to be fussed over by their mother. Dominique sticks her tongue out at her as their mother lectures her about staying out of trouble, and Victoire just smirks at her little sister as she makes her escape.

She searches for her friends, for Olivia's brown ponytail or Flossy's black curls, but there is no sign of them anywhere. Victoire does run into Molly, flirting with some boy, and Fred, being surreptitiously passed some joke products by Uncle George. Victoire rolls her eyes at the sight, steeling herself for what is sure to be an even more exhausting year than the last.

Suddenly, Victoire's eyes catch on a sight a little bit further down the platform. It's the Scamanders – Luna and Rolf look a little zany as usual, Lorcan's got his nose in some book, and Lysander is smiling and jovially greeting all of the other students around his family. Victoire watches with wide eyes as Mr. and Mrs. Scamander hug their sons goodbye, and then they leave. Lorcan goes to board the train right away, but Lysander stays on the platform, saying hello to people he knows.

Before she even realizes it, Victoire's feet have somehow carried her over to him, and he looks up and catches sight of her soon enough. His eyes light up charmingly when he sees her, and his face breaks into a wide grin. His happiness is contagious, because Victoire can't help but smile back at him, which she's sure is a surprising sight for most of the students around them considering her reputation as the school's ice queen.

Victoire also can't help her eyes from raking over his body, taking in the way his shoulders have filled out, his broad chest, his tanned, muscular arms. He looks…well, he looks bloody _fantastic_, if she's honest, and suddenly she's not even disappointed anymore that the Scamanders had gone on that expedition in the mountains over the summer, not if being outdoors so much had turned Lysander into this tanned, strapping young man.

"Hi," she finally says to him, looking up to meet his eyes, her heart catching in her throat when she takes in how intently he's staring back at her.

"Hello," he grins back at her.

She swallows and looks away from him, unfamiliar with the feeling of nervousness and anxiety around him. "So…how were the Himalayas?"

He shrugs. "All right. Mum was lost in the mountains for three days on her own. Lorcan almost got eaten by a yeti. I'm not much into magical creatures or plants, but at least I got a good workout for Quidditch season with all the hiking."

Victoire rolls her eyes at the typically casual way in which he recounts such dramatic events. She has to hold herself back from giving him another once-over to examine just how successful his workout had been in building muscles.

"I missed you, though," he adds in a low voice, leaning closer to her. Victoire forgets to breathe as she takes in his intent gaze, his husky tone. "I thought…Weasley, I thought about you all –"

"Lysander!" comes a loud shout from her right, and Lysander backs away from her as his friends come rushing over to them, clapping Lysander on the back and all shouting to be heard over each other.

Victoire slips away unnoticed in the chaos and goes to board the train, trying not to think about what he was going to tell her before he was interrupted.

..

Rose and Albus are first years, and they had both been a bit nervous about the Sorting so Victoire feels almost anxious for them as she watches the new students approach the Sorting Hat one by one.

Olivia's practically sitting on her new boyfriend's lap on the bench next to her, so Victoire glares at her before whirling around when she hears, "Potter, Albus!" called.

She glances at James, a little further down the Gryffindor table from her, who is whispering something to Fred. Victoire sighs. She supposes she'll be spending large portions of her time now breaking up fights in the common room between James and Albus, who get on with each other even worse now that they're older.

The hat sits on Albus' head for a rather time, and Victoire frowns at how long her cousin's Sorting is taking. Finally, the hat declares, "Slytherin!" and a palpable hush falls over the entire Hall.

Eventually, the Slytherin table begins clapping hesitantly, and the others join in. Albus looks like he's about to cry as he steps down and walks over to his new house table like he's walking to his death. He glances fearfully over at James who is glaring at him murderously.

Victoire is shocked at Albus' Sorting, but she's even more worried for Albus – both for what his new housemates will do to him and what his brother will.

Rose goes into Gryffindor, and as soon as the Sorting is over and the Feast has begun, Victoire excuses herself from her seat and rushes over to her little cousins. She congratulates Rose and then goes warily over to where James is seated. He's yelling at Fred and Dominique, who are talking to him in hushed voices, trying to calm him down and looking scared of what their cousin will do.

"James," Victoire says from behind him, and he whirls around on the bench to face her.

"Can you believe it?" he exclaims, his expression outraged. "This has to be some kind of mistake, Vic, you're Head Girl, can't you make them re-do the Sorting? Tell them there's been a mistake!"

Victoire shakes her head slowly, and James jumps out of his seat. "Tell them!" he yells at her, drawing more than a few curious glances from students seated nearby.

"James," she says again sympathetically, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "I know you weren't expecting this, none of us were, but –"

"This is rubbish!" he shouts. "No brother of mine can be a Slytherin, I won't stand for it!"

James looks apoplectic, his cheeks flushed with anger, his brown eyes wild. He suddenly lunges forward, looking like he's about to make for the Slytherin table and throttle his little brother. Victoire reaches out both hands to try to hold him back, but he's strong for his age and it's difficult.

Then she feels two strong arms on either side of her, taking hold of James, and Victoire takes a step back only to hit a muscular body. She twists her way out from the middle and looks up at Lysander, who has taken over her job of holding James back. "Calm down, Potter, come on, it's all right," he mutters to James.

"But Lysander, he –"

"I know. Come on, wanna go for a walk outside to cool off?" Lysander suggests.

James lets out a huff of air, his shoulders sagging. "Yeah, all right," he replies, and Victoire watches disbelievingly as Lysander swings an arm around the younger boy and ushers him out of the Great Hall, talking animatedly to him the whole way. As the two boys make their way toward the exit, Lysander turns back for a second and looks at Victoire, just looks at her, before turning back to James.

Victoire watches, transfixed, until they're out the door. Then she blinks and hurries over to the Slytherin table to go and comfort a terrified Albus.

..

"I'm completely knackered," Flossy yawns to Victoire.

"You can go on up to bed, I'll be there soon," Victoire tells her, and Flossy nods and stands up from their spot on the couch near the fireplace.

"Good night," Flossy says, and heads toward the girls' staircase.

Olivia is nowhere to be seen, probably up in the boys' dormitory with her boyfriend, so Victoire is alone in front of the warm fire, absently paging through an Arithmancy book. Slowly but surely, the few remaining students in the common room trickle upstairs to bed, and soon Victoire is the only one left, save for a second year who has fallen asleep on an armchair in the corner, and for some noisy fourth years who are playing a loud game on the other side of the room.

Victoire is annoyingly cognizant that Lysander is among them, though he hasn't been nearly as loud as his mates, for once. Finally, after what seems like ages, the game finishes and they begin to head upstairs. Lysander, however, stays in the common room, a fact that Victoire is hyperaware of, though she pretends not to notice him, mostly because she doesn't know what on earth she would say to him. Feeling the weight of his eyes on her, Victoire finally gets too uncomfortable just sitting on the couch and folds her book closed, rising slowly and walking over to the corner where the second year girl is sleeping.

Victoire kneels down in front of the girl's chair and reaches out to stroke the girl's hair, mindful of Lysander's gaze on her from across the room. "Annie," she says quietly. "Annie, wake up." She knows Annie, who is one of Dominique's less wild friends, fairly well.

The girl's eyes open slowly. "Huh?" she says groggily, blinking.

"It's late," Victoire tells her softly. "You should get up to bed."

Annie nods, and then scampers up the girls' staircase. Victoire stands up and then walks back over to her former seat by the fire to retrieve her book. She makes the mistake of catching Lysander's eye as she walks toward the couch, and though she looks away almost instantly, it's too late. He stands up and walks toward her, and for some reason Victoire makes the stupid decision to sit back down on the couch and pretend to keep reading her book, even though she's obviously aware that he's walking toward her.

_Stop acting like such a daft cow_, she scolds herself in embarrassment. She has no idea what's possessed her to behave so ridiculously.

She feels Lysander sink down onto the couch next to her, and she takes a deep breath before looking up at him. She's about to make some casual remark to show how unaffected she is by his presence, but she loses her breath at how he looks from up close in the dark room, the firelight dancing over the planes of his face, making his eyes glow.

"It's only the first night back," he tells her in that deep voice of his, and she clenches her fingers around the edges of her book. "Surely you can't have too much reading already."

Victoire swallows. "Oh, it's, um…it's not for class." She glances down at her book, eager to look away from his intense stare. "I like Arithmancy."

"I know you do," Lysander replies swiftly, and she glances up sharply at him. He looks faintly disconcerted for a moment, and then the look is gone, and he's _staring_ at her again.

"Thank you," the words are out of Victoire's mouth before she thinks them through. "For how you were with James, earlier."

He shrugs. "Didn't want things to get ugly," he tells her, the corner of his mouth twitching. Victoire forces herself to ignore how much she wants to reach up and smooth out the corner of his lips and turns to stare at the fire.

They both sit in silence for a few moments, mesmerized by the dancing flames, even though every one of Victoire's nerves is aware of the nearness of Lysander's body.

"Well," Victoire breaks the silence. "It _is_ late. I should probably go up to bed." She shuts her book and turns to look at Lysander.

He's looking at her in that way of his, again, his eyes boring into hers, and Victoire's hands fist into her skirt. "Weasley," he says in a coarse voice.

She takes in a breath sharply, and then watches, spellbound, as he reaches out a hand that lands on her knee, his thumb stroking it lazily. Victoire sinks back into the couch cushion as she revels in his touch, his hand rough against her bare skin. It's doing things to her that she can't even comprehend, and she leans back, her back arching as his other hand comes up to trail along her arm, her waist. Her eyes close slowly, and her head lolls back as she feels him lean closer to her, his warm breath on her neck. She feels his hot lips brush a particularly sensitive part of her neck briefly before he pulls away, and she shifts in her seat, eager for the sensation to be repeated. But his lips don't touch her neck again, and her eyes fly open to see him staring down at her, his eyes a dark gray, full of desire.

"Scamander," she breathes. "This kind of thing can't happen." She sounds awfully hypocritical, she knows, with his thumb still stroking her knee, his hand still ghosting along her torso, but she tells herself that there's really no harm done if he keeps his hands on her until after she says what she needs to. "I'm warning you," she sighs. "Stay away from me this year. I mean it."

Lysander hovers over her, his hand coming up from her waist to stroke her jaw, her cheek, her lips. "You mean it?" he murmurs.

She sighs again and leans into his touch despite herself. "Yes," she whispers.

"All right then," he tells her, and he leans down so that his lips are just a millimeter away from hers, his hot breath mixing with hers. Victoire's eyes flutter shut, waiting for his lips to meet hers, but then suddenly his hand is gone from her knee, his fingers have left her face, and the warmth his body had brought her has disappeared. Her eyes open and she is startled to see him standing up, backing away from the couch, his eyes twinkling cheekily. "I'll stay away." He smirks at her flustered state, and then he turns around to saunter in that aggravating way of his up the boys' staircase.

Victoire sinks back against the couch. "Bollocks," she whispers to the fire.

..

Albus and Rose settle into Hogwarts well enough. Albus seems to make some friends in Slytherin, as Victoire always sees him about the castle glued to the side of some little blond boy. Rose immediately sets about to getting O's in all her classes and bossing all of her fellow first years around. It's a little amusing, but it would be funnier if her little cousin's imperiousness didn't remind Victoire so vividly of herself as a first year.

Rose eagerly takes over the Scolding James duty from Victoire, which is practically a full-time job but one that Rose is clearly up to. Victoire couldn't be happier to have some of the responsibility for keeping James in line taken off of her. Rose might be a year younger than James is, but she's tough and she can keep up with her misbehaving cousin.

Besides, Victoire has to deal with the fallout when a professor walks in on Molly giving a blowjob to some boy in an empty classroom. Victoire has to beg the teacher not to write home to Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey, and it's only thanks to her position as Head Girl that he doesn't. Molly, for her part, is still as unresponsive to Victoire's interventions as ever.

..

"So I'll draw up those patrol rosters for the prefects, then?" asks Barney Cuffe, the most boring Head Boy in the history of Head Boys.

Victoire nods. "Yeah, thanks, Barney, that'd be great. I've got to run, now, I have to tutor third years in Arithmancy."

"See you later," Barney replies, and then he's off.

She makes her way down the Ground Floor corridor, heading for the Grand Staircase. Professor Vector had begged her to help some of the third year Arithmancy students with understanding basic concepts, and since Victoire is Vector's favorite student, she could hardly say no. Still, it's not as though Victoire has loads of extra time on her hands to tutor, not with all of her Head Girl duties and her own schoolwork.

"You bloody wanker!"

Victoire hears a shout from down the hallway and instantly speeds up. She'd know that voice anywhere.

"Hey! I didn't do anything to you! Back off, James!"

Victoire pushes her way through the crowds of students milling about, trying to reach the group crowded around Albus and James. They've been fighting more than ever at school, thanks to Albus being Sorted into Slytherin, and Victoire is getting rather fed up with having to try to discipline them.

Suddenly, she sees a small figure break out of the crowd surrounding the two boys and run toward her. "Vic!" exclaims Rose, her blue eyes wide with distress. "Thank Merlin you're here. They're really going at it this time."

Victoire rushes to meet Rose in the busy corridor. "What are they fighting about this time?"

Rose shrugs. "I've no idea. All I know is that it's getting vicious over there."

The two girls arrive at the throng of students surrounding the sparring boys. Victoire is dismayed to see that other students have chosen sides, with Gryffindors backing James, egging him on, and Slytherins congregated behind Albus, hurling insults at James. Meanwhile, both boys have their wands out. She hopes fervently that they don't start trying to hex each other, because considering that Albus has just started learning magic a few weeks ago, it'll hardly be a fair fight.

"James!" Victoire shouts, trying to be heard over the cacophony. "Albus! Stop this at once!"

But neither of her cousins hear her, and she isn't strong enough to push her way through the horde of students surrounding them.

"Oh please, you think you're a match for me? Think again, _Slytherin_!" James shouts, and raises his wand. He opens his mouth, clearly about to hex Albus, and Victoire doesn't even want to think about how many hexes James, Fred, and Dominique probably have picked up in their spare time.

She's not close enough to get to the boys physically, but she points her wand at James and murmurs, "Expelliarmus."

James looks down in shock. "What the bloody – did you do that, Slytherin?"

"What?" Albus exclaims, looking even more confused. "No! I don't even know how –"

"You sneaky bastard!" James snarls, and then he leaps on Albus, tackling him to the ground. The brothers forget about their wands as they wrestle each other violently, rolling around on the floor. It's something Victoire's seen them do countless times at the Burrow or at the Potters', but never at school, and never with this kind of ferocity.

"Boys!" Victoire cries, pushing younger students out of her way left and right, her composure forgotten. "I'm serious! Stop that right now!"

She's almost made it to the front of the circle of students surrounding the boys when suddenly, from the other side of the crowd, she sees Lysander pushing his way through.

"What the bloody hell's going on here?" she hears him yelling as he finally breaks through the ring of students to reach the front lines. When he sees the Potter brothers wrestling on the ground, he shakes his head in exasperation.

Victoire reaches the front of the action just in time to see Lysander dive onto the floor, fighting to separate the brawling boys.

"Get off him, James, you little prat," Lysander mutters to James as he pulls him off his brother. "And you, Albus, stop that bloody KICKING!"

"Geroff, Lysander!" James shouts. "Let me at him!"

"Oh, shut it," Lysander replies, pinning James down to the ground. He looks back at Albus, who is still blindly kicking at anyone he can get at. "And Albus, will you stop that? Merlin! You're like an animal!"

Albus finally calms down and stands up, brushing himself off. James, meanwhile, is still being pinned to the ground by Lysander.

"You're insane, James!" Albus yells down at his brother. "Absolutely mental! You better leave me alone, or –"

"Or what?" James mocks, trying to fight Lysander off of him. "You'll write home and cry to _Mummy_?"

"I'll kill you!" Albus cries, rushing toward James once again. Lysander picks up one of his hands restraining James to reach out and hold Albus back.

Victoire decides that it's as good a time as any to join the fray, and she runs over to grab Albus by the shoulders. He twists around and looks up at her in surprise. When he sees who it is, his green eyes widen and he looks fearful. "Vic!" he exclaims. "Um, it's not what it looks –"

Victoire narrows her eyes down at him. "Don't bother lying, Albus. I saw enough. Detention," she declares sternly, "for the both of you. One week each."

"A week!"

"Bloody hell, Vic!"

"This kind of behavior will not be tolerated," she scolds them. Albus looks upset and James, still held to the ground by Lysander, looks livid. Lysander, for his part, has remained calm in the midst of all the chaos, and seems to be holding James down with little effort. He's kneeling on the ground, staring up at Victoire, his gray eyes appraising her coolly. Victoire tries to avoid looking at him, and instead glares at the crowd of students still surround them. "All of you, report back to your common rooms at once!" she yells, and they all scamper away hurriedly, eager to get away from the scary Head Girl. She turns to face her cousins. "It's one thing to fight like this at home, but you two need to start acting your age."

"But he started it!" protests Albus.

"No, you little liar, you started it –"

"That's enough!" Victoire interrupts. "You will stop this fighting _at once_, you will show up to all of your detentions," she pauses to glare down at James, "_on time_, and you will not cause any more trouble in the corridors. Am I understood?"

Both boys are silent, staring stoically at the floor.

"Because if you don't want to do what I say, I can always write Aunt Ginny and let her know –"

"No!" Albus and James exclaim at once.

"Please don't, Vic!" Albus pleads.

"That won't be necessary," James says in a panicked tone.

Victoire smirks. "So it's settled, then? This fight is over?"

"Yes, Victoire," they chorus, and she smiles in satisfaction.

"Now can you tell bloody Scamander to get the hell off of me?" James demands indignantly. "I think he broke my back or something."

Lysander rolls his eyes. "Oh, piss off, Potter, you wimp. You're perfectly fine for Quidditch tryouts tomorrow." But he stands up and holds a hand out to James, who ignores it and springs up on his own. Once Albus sees that James is up and moving about, he scampers off, probably to hide in the dungeons from the wrath of his older brother. Victoire doesn't blame him.

"Quidditch tryouts?" Victoire repeats, her eyes narrowed. "You're meant to be in detention tomorrow."

"Vic!" James protests. "You've got to be kidding me! I can do detention some other time, but these tryouts only happen once a year. I've been practicing all summer!"

"I thought we'd said that you were going to do what I said and obediently attend detentions, or I'd write Aunt Ginny," Victoire tells him firmly.

"Well yeah, but –"

"I can't just make an exception for you on the first day of your punishment!" Victoire says. "I'm Head Girl, James, what's it going to look like if I let my relatives skive off on detention?"

"But you don't understand! I need to go to Quidditch tryouts tomorrow! Tell her, Lysander!" James pleads, looking up at his fourth year idol.

Lysander hesitates, looking back and forth from James to Victoire. "Weasley, come on, they are only once a year. Is there any way he can –"

"Absolutely not!" Victoire exclaims, crossing her arms furiously. "You have _some nerve_, Scamander!" she hisses, glaring up at Lysander.

"Okay!" Lysander exclaims, holding his hands up in the air in surrender. "Okay, right, got it." He turns to James. "Listen to your cousin," he tells him.

James sputters in shock. "What…but…you…she…" He looks back and forth between Victoire and Lysander, and then he suddenly stops on Lysander, narrowing his eyes. "You traitor," he snarls.

Lysander laughs. "What?"

"You!" James yells, reaching up to push Lysander in the chest.

"Hey!" Lysander exclaims, reaching out and grabbing James' arms to stop him. "What are you on about?"

"Of course you'd take her side, wouldn't you," James says furiously, glaring daggers up at Lysander. "You've always been bloody _obsessed_ with her."

"James," Lysander says warningly.

But James ignores him, barreling on. "You're a right tosser, you know that, Scamander? You don't give a shit about whether I get to play Quidditch, all so you can try to get into Vic's pants –"

"James!" Victoire interjects sharply, glaring at her cousin.

"Well good for the both of you, then," James spits sardonically at Victoire and Lysander. "You deserve each other. I hope that tomorrow while I'm in detention the two of you can gave a really fantastic _shag_ in a broom cupboard somewhere –"

Victoire opens her mouth to yell at him once again, but Lysander has already grabbed James by the shirt and rammed him up against the nearby wall. "Don't you dare talk about her like that," Lysander snarls down at an astonished James. "Apologize to your cousin." When James doesn't say anything, Lysander shouts, "Now!"

"All right!" James yells. "All right, Merlin." He looks over at Victoire. "I'm sorry, Vic. That was uncalled for," he tells her remorsefully.

She gazes at him coolly. "That's okay. Thank you, James."

Lysander lets James go roughly. He begins walking away from the two older students, still visibly angry, his hands clenched in fists.

Victoire and Lysander stand where they are, watching James storm down the corridor.

"The little git," Lysander mutters under his breath. "And I know they'll still let him on the team even if he doesn't turn up tomorrow, everyone knows he's an incredible Chaser."

He seems to abruptly realize that Victoire is still there with him, and he clears his throat and straightens up, looking at her cautiously.

She swallows, her head still spinning from everything that has just occurred. She glances over at Lysander, who looks troubled, his brow wrinkled, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Victoire's gaze softens as she looks at him. He really does seem like he's concerned about being responsible these days. Maybe he had taken her words in the spring to heart, when she had told him to grow up. She takes in his unsettled appearance and feels a pang of something she doesn't want to name.

She takes a step closer to him. "Scamander," she breathes.

He just stares back at her, his jaw set. "Don't worry," he tells her coarsely. "I'll stay away from you, just like you wanted."

And then he's off, pacing down the corridor away from her, and Victoire is left feeling more confused than ever.

..

**A/N**: Please review and let me know what you thought!


End file.
